


I'm pretty much fucked. That's my considered opinion. Fucked.

by SiriusNebulae



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: (based mostly off of the script and some of the book), (he is mark watney), (he is the doctor), Alternate Universe, Andy and Quynh are married too, Angst, Canon Implied Character Death, Copley has arrived!, Copley is in Vincent Kapoor's role aka the role played by chiwetel ejiofor (copley), Dissociation, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Hurt/Comfort, JOE IS ALIVE?????, Joe is stranded on mars, Multi, Nicky is still married to him, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Whump, Nightmares, No Immortality, Panic Attacks, Reports of My Death Were Greatly Exaggerated, So is everyone, THE ROVER MOVED????, This is going to get worse before it gets better, booker loves his brothers, brief mention of weight loss due to the circumstances (mentioned in notes each time), celeste is here too!, esp booker, jay is the PR rep, lykon appears!, lykon is the director, nicky is having a rough time, pathfinder!, sciencing the shit out of mars!, so the old white guy who does a lot of talking in the movie, so the white woman with straight hair who hangs w the other 2 and also talks a lot, the martian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriusNebulae/pseuds/SiriusNebulae
Summary: Since being stranded here, I have concluded the following: 1. I’ve been in a dust storm for several sols. 2. Shit. I suppose I’ll just have to think of something. Or die. Nicky, my love wherever you are, remember how we always joked that I was the very lowest ranked member of the crew, and that I would only be 'in command' if I were the only one left?Well I'm in command now.(SUCK IT, NILE)
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 553
Kudos: 446





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!   
> Title and most of the summary (although edited) was taken from the book (The Martian by Andy Weir).   
> I will be going mostly by the script, some of the book, and then whatever else based on making a TOG story out of this. :D   
> (It's rated M right now because I will forget to change it from T when things get worse lol)

"Alright team," Andy's voice rings out over the spacesuit comm easily, "let's make the Guard proud today. Everyone on their best behavior- especially _you_ al-Kaysani. How's it looking over there?"

Joe stands looking over the grid he has created, twine and stakes anchored into the orange ground. The sun is partially obscured, but does nothing to detract from the planet's beauty. Dunes and small plateaus as far as the eye could see, and he itched with the need to keep walking, to explore more and _more_. 

He brings his wrist-comm to his mouth.

"You'll be happy to know, boss, that the particles in grid section 14-28 are predominantly coarse, but in _14-29_ , they're much finer. Should be pretty good for our analysis." 

"Wow," comes Nile's young voice over the comms. "Did you all hear that? Joe just discovered 'dirt.' We have to alert the Guard! Tell the _media-_ "

"Sorry Nile," Joe interrupts with a smile, turning to look back at their home base, the HAB. He can just make out Nile's small figure next to their 'space truck,' so dubbed by him and Booker after too many times failing to pronounce 'The MAV' while drunk. Sure, Andy and everyone else refused to call it the space truck, but they were missing out. "What _exactly_ are you doing today? Making sure the space truck is still upright?"

Nile's reply is immediate. "Visual inspection of equipment is imperative to mission success." She studies the MAV for a moment, if just to prove the veracity of her words. "The space truck is still upright, according to visual data collected." 

"Babe," Nicky interrupts, already anticipating the verbal spar Joe is about to start. "Please don't engage." 

" _al-Kaysani_ ," Andy's voice interrupts again, exasperation clear by her tone. Focusing on the drilling procedure in front of her does not necessarily need her full attention, especially with Booker her by her side, but neither does the bickering on comms. She would rather quietly wait for the drill to finish than have to listen to her team bicker back and forth. In the HAB, it was fine. Out here, where any wrong move could mean death or certain danger, she wasn't going to let it get too out of hand. "You keep leaving your channel open- which leads to Nile responding, which leads to _us_ having to listen, which leads to _me_ being annoyed." 

"Nile," Joe grins unrepentant as he spots the dot of Andy near the drill station. "The boss would like you to please shut your smart mouth." 

Nicky's groan is loud, as are Booker's snorts of laughter. Even after seven years of marriage, two years of small-time space missions, and all of Guard's Mars Mission training, Nicky still has to cringe at Joe's attempts at humor. Don't get him wrong, he loves Joe immensely, and the team definitely needs him and Nile goofing off to keep them sane and running like a family, but some days he just gets a lot of secondhand embarrassment from the love of his life. 

"Babe, my sun, could you use any other adjective to describe Nile's mouth?"

Nile snorts. "Was that an insult, di Genova?" 

"That's _doctor_ di Genova to you." 

"Hey boss," Quynh's voice comes over comms clearly- she always does; managing the communications systems has certain perks. "I'd be happy to turn their comms off from here- just say the word." 

Booker's snorts again, and everyone already knows what's going to happen. 

"Shut 'em off." 

Joe makes an affronted noise at the sound of the radios turning off, even though this is a common occurrence at this point. Nile and he weren't _trying_ to annoy everyone out of their minds, but it sure does keep them in high spirits. Nothing was worse than being on another planet with only your depressed crew members for company. 

At least in Joe's opinion. Probably dying out here would rank first if he had to really think about it. 

He turns to look back at his soil grid, watching in fascination at the wind blowing the grains across his feet. He looks up, and can see the wind in the distance, causing sand to float across the plains. It's beautiful. His fingers ache to draw it. He could stay here forever. 

Well, only if Nicky stayed with him. He would be okay as long as he was with Nicky. His moon, his love, his _husband._ And he'd probably okay with Nile as well. Probably everyone else too, to be honest. Yep, he was a sucker for his family, he would admit that without shame. Space was a new adventure, and he wouldn't want anyone else than his family by his side.

"Hey guys," Quynh's voice comes back on radio, a small thread of tension underscoring her words. "Everyone should come back to the HAB now..."

Straightening, Joe can see Andy and Booker pause in their drilling, as well as Nile's small form moving towards them. Anything that had Quynh sounding like that, sounding slightly nervous, could not be good. Quynh was the calmest of all of them. When something rattled her, everyone knew to pay attention. 

"What is it?" Came Andy's short reply, catching Booker's eye as he shrugged.

"Mission update. Storm warning." 

Joe freezes. They had gone over the storm warning at this morning's briefing. They still had a few hours to go, long enough for everyone to finish and be back inside the safety of the HAB to wait it out. 

"They upgraded their estimate." They can hear Quynh taking a calming breath. "The storm's going to be worse than we thought."

* * *

They stand around Quynh's station, disheveled from taking off their suits quickly after making their way back. Not running, but not really walking either. Rather an absurd combination of hopping and skipping- one of the fastest ways to travel in mars gravity. 

Andy is reading over Quynh's shoulder while the rest of them silently wait. She turns around and runs a hand through her hair.

"Okay. The storm's going to be around 1,200 kilometers in diameter, bearing 24.41 degrees-" 

Booker whistles grimly. 

"-and tracking directly towards us." She looks around. "Based on that, the estimated force is about 8,600 newtons."

"Santa Maria Madre de Dio," Joe whispers. "And the abort force?" 

"7,500." Nicky looks directly at him. The creases by his eyes is the only way Joe can see his nervousness. 

"Any more than that and the MAV could tip," Nile shakes her head.

Andy nods, running calculations in her head. They've trained to prepare for storms, but she had hoped it wouldn't happen until later in their mission. Not when they had barely done all the tests they needed. They could weather most storms, but not one like this. Not one this powerful.

"We're scrubbed?" Booker knew the look on Andy's face. He'd been by her side all through their first space missions and training. No one knew her thinking better than him, not when they've had to rely on each other so many times in life and death situations. 

She looks at him, takes in the sadness on his face and the certainty in his eyes. He would trust her and do whatever she said. No questions.

"Begin abort procedures."

"There's a margin of error-" Nile starts.

"Prep for emergency departure." Andy orders, looking at Nicky harshly. She isn't going to risk her crew for a 'margin of error,' not when her one job, her _one job,_ is to keep them safe, keep her _family_ safe.

"Boss-" 

Andy turns her glare on Joe. "We're scrubbed. You heard me. Prep for emergency departure. We're leaving."

* * *

Strong winds hit the crew as they exit the HAB into the storm. It's enough to almost fall over, and they have to lean forward to counter the effect. Sand obstructs the view from their helmets and darkens all they can see. They can barely make out a meter in front of them; their flashlights on their helmets the only light source. 

Andy's voice crackles over the comms and can barely be heard above the screaming wind. 

"Visibility is almost zero. If you get lost, home in on my suit's telemetry. The wind's gonna be even rough the further we get from the HAB. Be ready." 

Joe grimaces and reaches for Nicky's hand. They hold on to each other tightly, their bodies pressed close together in the storm. 

"Hey," Joe glances around as his mind speeds ahead. "Maybe we could shore up the space truck. Make tipping less likely." 

Andy's voice responds immediately. "How?"

"We could use the cables from the solar farm as guy lines." He feels Nicky squeeze his hand in agreement. He stops for a moment to readjust his hold on Nicky's hand and also what they're carrying to the MAV.

"The rovers could be anchors. The trick would be getting around the-" 

_"JOE!"_

By the time he looks up at Nicky's panicked yell he knows he can't move out of the way of the approaching antenna headed right for him. He barely has a moment to brace himself as the antenna slams into him, painfully knocking his feet out from under him. He grabs tight to Nicky's hand, he is almost flying, like he is a mockery of a kite, tethered only to Nicky. 

He's being pulled too strongly by the storm away from Nicky. He won't be able to hold on for long.

He can barely look away from Nicky, not when it might be the last-

"My Moon-" Joe chokes out. His eyes have tears in them already and he is resigned to what's to come. Nicky can't pull him back in these winds, but neither will he let him go. Nicky has never given up in his life, and he will not begin today. Not when it means Joe's life. 

" _Yusuf-_ don't do this to me." Nicky's voice catches. 

The tears are freely running down his face and it feels like Joe's heart has stopped. It's only the two them in this moment, they are in darkness and only their faces and clasped hands are illuminated. The winds howl and every last moment together is fought for. He can't- this can't be goodbye. He thought they had _years_ -

"JOE, NICKY REPORT." 

They ignore Andy's order. They have eyes only on each other. Joe can feel their hands slipping and knows Nicky would hold on and jump with him, if given the chance. His husband, so kind and self-sacrificing. He would rather die with Joe than abandon him to his death here. 

"My love-" Joe starts, knowing that he will have to be the one to let go. He will have to be then one to abandon Nicky; he would never make Nicky deal with that. This will never be his fault. They've had so many years- their love- it has to be him who lets go. "I love you and will love you in the Hereafter. You are my moon and my life. Please-"

"My sun _don't_. _Joe_ , don't- I love you. I love you more than life itself-" He shakes his head violently and his tears fall against his helmet visor. Their hands are barely holding on, only their fingers grasped tightly keeping them together. How he wishes it wasn't like this, that he could at least feel the warmth of their hands, not these cold suits. Not like this, _please-_

"I love you, Nicolo. I'll be waiting for you." 

Joe can't bring himself to close his eyes, can't bring himself to be a coward like this. No, his last view will be of Nicky. His last view will be his entire world and the one thing worth living for. His lips wobble as he tries to smile one last time, as he tries to ignore the way that Nicky is starting to scream at him, to curse and beg him to _keeping holding on, just keep holding on! **JOE-**_

He takes one last deep breath and lets go, letting the storm swallow him up as everything goes black. 


	2. Chapter 2

"JOE, NICKY REPORT!"

"Boss," Quynh's voice breaks. "I can't-" 

"Tell me." 

"Something hit him, we heard him and Nicky- now- I don't know. I can't find him, Andy. He's offline, I can't find Joe, his alarm went off and-" 

Andy tries to wipe her eyes, a useless endeavor in her suit. She feels useless, everything feels useless. One crew member down, another unaccounted for. The storm is rapidly approaching and she's losing control of the situation too fast. They can't see anything, she can barely see Nile standing right next to her. What now, what next? 

"Okay, okay," she takes a deep breath and sets her shoulders. "Nile, get to the MAV and prep for launch. Everyone else, home in on Quynh, follow her to the MAV." 

"I didn't see anything! I could've, I should've-"

"Quynh!" Andy interrupts. "Take everyone to the MAV. Now, you can do this." 

"Yes, Boss." 

"Where is Nicky?" Andy turns around and tries to look past the darkness of the storm. "Does his bio-monitor still work?" 

"Sending data now." Quynh tries to even her voice out. "It reads him as alive, not too far from you." 

Though Andy can't see her, she knows Quynh is on her way to the MAV, knows she has put everything aside for now except for getting everyone to the MAV safely. If anything happens to Andy, Quynh will keep them safe, Quynh will make sure they get home. 

"Andy," Booker's voice is so quiet it's almost drowned out by the shrieking wind. "How long can a person survive decompression?" 

"...Book..." She can't keep the pain from her voice. She has to swallow around the lump in her throat. "Line up and walk west. Small steps. Joe's probably lying somewhere; we don't want to step on him." 

"...yes, boss." He starts walking through the storm once more, unable to see anyone and having to rely on the map to show where they're headed.

He knew space was lonely, but he never thought it would feel like this.

* * *

Nile dives headfirst into the airlock, and she's barely able to force the door shut on the storm. The seconds waiting for pressurization tick by in agonizing slowness. Every second is another one _lost_ , another one without _Joe,_ without knowing who's even alive anymore. 

The MAV finally finishes and she can race up the ladder into the cockpit. Hurling herself into the pilot seat, she straps in and boots up the system. Lights and buttons all flash, and the screens in front of her come to life. Outside the window the storm continues to rage on, only visible by the darkness and grains scraping against it. 

"Boss!" She hits her comm. "The MAV's got an 8 degree tilt- it's gonna tip at 12.3." 

"Heard and received," Andy's voice is tight. 

"Quynh," Booker's voice is still tense as he reads from his wrist screen. "Joe's bio-monitor sent something before going offline. My computer just says 'Bad Packet' and I-"

"It didn't finish transmitting. Let me check." She struggles to bring her arm up in the storm and to focus on both the hard walk and her screen. She does her best. "I have it. It's plain text. It says: BP 0, PR 0, TP 36.2."

"Copy." There's silence before Booker clicks back on his comm. "Blood pressure zero." He swallows heavily. "Pulse rate zero. Temperature normal." 

"Temperature normal?" Nile's voice sounds so young. Booker can't-

"It takes a while for the-" He stops and takes a breath. "I-it takes a while for the body to cool." 

Everyone freezes. 

They knew this was a possibility. They knew, that when they had signed up for this mission, when they had all knitted even closer to each other, that they might not be able to bring their entire family home. Never before had it felt like they were signing their lives away so easily. They had _all_ , even Joe, known the risks. 

They just didn't think it would happen. Not like this. Not when all they had left of Joe were his parting words to Nicky. Not when they didn't even know if _Nicky_ was alive. 

Not like this. 

"Boss." Nile's voice breaks the silence. Everyone resumes fighting towards the ship. "Tilting's at 10.5 degrees now, with gusts pushing it to 11." 

"Copy. If it tips can you launch before it completely falls over?" Andy's voice is clear as day. She knows exactly what she's not saying. 

That Nile needs to launch before it tips, before their only way off of here is destroyed and they become stranded. She knows that anyone who's not on it will be left behind. 

She'll be left behind.

"Uh, yes. Boss. I could take manual control." Nile's voice doesn't waver. Booker curses in the background. 

"Copy." Andy replies. "Everyone home in on Nile's suit. That'll get you to the airlock. Get in and prep for launch." 

"What about you, Boss?" Booker knows what she means, knows what she's not saying. He just wishes it wasn't true. 

"I'm almost at Nicky's location. Get moving. And Nile, if you start to tip, launch." 

Nile can't help herself. "You really think I'm gonna leave you behind?" 

"I just ordered you to." Andy's voice is ruthless. "You guys, get to the ship. **_GO._** " 

* * *

She can't see a thing in any direction. She can barely see her wrist com anymore. She could easily get lost out here, or be picked up off her feet and thrown far away, just like-

Andy reaches into her pack and pulls out two of her meter-long drill bits. Though not intended for use outside of drilling, they will help her stay weighted on the ground. 

Chancing a look at her wrist comm, she can still only see Nicky's dot blinking back at her unmoving. Fuck, she hopes he isn't unconscious or injured; she's barely made it this far, she doesn't think she can get them both back to the MAV on her own. Not before it tips. 

"Quynh, would the rover infrared camera do any good locating Joe?" 

"No," Quynh's voice crackles over the channel. "The IR camera can't get through sand any better than visible light." 

"You're grasping, Boss." 

"Shut it, Booker." She growls. She knows what she's doing; she knows there's nothing left to try. They wouldn't be able to find his body until after the storm, if even then, and right now they have to leave before it gets worse. 

"Boss, we're tilting 11.6 degrees. One good gust and we're tipping." Nile's voice barely wavers and Andy would commend her on it if they were in any other situation. Not now, not when she's far from the MAV, in a sandstorm, looking for Nicky, hoping for Joe, and feeling every second tick by.

"What about the proximity radar?" Andy stumbles and falls, hands flailing out into the sand. She can only push herself back up, grab the drills, and keep going. There's nothing else to do. "Could the radar detect Joe's suit?" 

"Not really, Boss." Booker sounds tired, sounds tired to the bone. When they were in training together, that voice, Andy knows, is what he sounds like after 2 days awake and 3 simulators too deep. 

This isn't a simulation. 

"Boss, it's made to see the ship in orbit, not the metal in a single suit." 

"Copy. Do it anyways." Her legs ache and she is desperately trying to hold on to hope. She's the Commander. Her job is to get everyone home alive, or die trying. She doesn't leave people behind. Not when she can still see Nicky's vitals. 

"Andy," Booker interrupts again. "I know you don't want to hear this, but al-kays- Joe's dead." 

"Copy." Ignoring the tears running down her face, she carries on. It's dark and she can't see and the drills are heavy to pull and the wind is almost impossible to walk into. She carries on. "Nile, try the radar."

"Roger." Comes Nile's reply. Unfortunately, she forgets to close her channel, and Andy can hear her angrily hissing in the background.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Booker?! Why the fuck would you say that?!"

"My friend just died," is the quiet response. "I don't want my commander to die too." 

Andy ignores it. She has one goal, one focus. Find Nicky. Get to the MAV. Leave. Keep her crew safe (she can't stop that vicious voice in her head _you've **already** failed_). It feels like she is breaking apart, that this sand storm has torn her open and scraped her clean. She's empty inside. 

Nile returns to her comm and takes a breath. "Negative contact on the proximity radar." 

"Nothing?" She knew it was a long shot, she knew, but fuck, she had hoped for a miracle. They were on Mars for fuck's sake, that was more outrageous than hoping all the technology they had to keep track of people would be able to _find_ someone! 

"It can't even see the HAB, Andy. There's not enough met-" Nile's voice cuts out with a giant screech of metal and collective shouts. 

It's quiet. The comm's dead. 

Andy stops and looks around. There's nothing but darkness and the storm. She can hear nothing except for the howling of the wind and the clicking of her comm. 

She looks down at it and she _should_ be almost on top of Nicky by now. Their dots are almost completely overlapped. He's here somewhere. 

With one last glance around at what will most likely be her funeral grounds and one last deep breath, she carries on.

* * *

**_SCREECH_ **

"Fuck!" Nile shouts, immediately turning to her control panel. Everyone scrambles into their seats behind her, steps confident even with the unstable movement of the MAV. "Strap in, we're tipping!" 

"Booker- 13 degrees-- we're past balance, we'll never rock back-" Quynh glances behind her and takes in Booker's determined look staring straight back. 

His face barely changes. "Let it tip. We can't leave her."

"What the fuck, Booker?!" Nile whirls around angrily, glaring at him in outrage. Her hands never leave the controls in front of her, her sure grip never faltering. "We'll never be able to fix it if it tips!" 

Booker doesn't budge. He knows they don't have much time left. If they don't leave, they _all_ die. They all die here, on Mars, years away from the Earth. "I know Andy; she can pull a miracle out of her ass. Just a little longer, just give her the chance to get back. That's all I'm asking." 

Glancing at Quynh for reassurance, Nile glares at him one more time before nodding tightly. She turns back in her seat, pulling her straps tight in preparation. She never thought it would come to this, but she knows this ship better than anyone else. She knows what she could get away with (something that would never be approved by The Guard at ground).

"I've got one trick left," she sets her shoulders, "then I'm following orders." 

She quickly hits a pattern of buttons in front of her, too quick that Quynh (her honorary co-pilot if Andy doesn't come back (Andy is- was co-pilot. Then Nicky. Then Joe. Then Quynh) It's not looking good) can't make out what Nile's doing. The rocking of the ship and the tilting make everything harder to follow, and Quynh has her own tasks to focus on so they don't crash and die here on Mars. (Not even counting the comms going out. Andy's comm stopped working, something happened to their line and Quynh can't think about what happened, about the worst case scenarios that would mean loss of communication). 

**_WHOOSH_ **

The noise of thrusters from the nosecone drowns out every other sound. Quynh barely believes it when they begin slowly tipping the other way, Nile fighting the entire time against the storm. God, she hopes this works. They don't have anything to spare on this ship; everything has a time and place for use. And the nosecone thrusters, the OMS, can't be used here, not without having to dangerously change multiple functions and steps later. 

"C'mon, c'mon, 12.9 degrees-" Nile mutters under her breath, focus entirely on the screen read-out of their positioning. "Just a bit more-"

"You're firing the OMS?!" 

"Booker!" Nile can't turn around to glare at him, but he shrinks back regardless. "You're the one who said she needs more time! _This_ is more time!" 

"Nom de dieu de merde," he curses. Quynh picks up the comm attached to her dash. 

"Andy, you need to get back to the ship. Now." She glances at the screen: they're already tipping again. The wind is just too strong and they don't have anything left to try. They're going to have to launch soon. "He's gone, they both are. I'm so sorry, Andy, but you need to get back to the ship before you're gone too." 

* * *

Booker's on the edge of his seat. Metaphorically. He's physically strapped in right now, and he thinks it might be the only thing holding him up. 

Joe's _gone_. Joe's _dead._

His brother, is no longer here anymore and it hurts so much and he can't lose two brothers- can't lose _Andy_ on top of it all. 

He can barely hear the alarms going off in the cabin, Nile cursing as she tries to keep control, keep the rocket from tipping and leaving them all to die here. 

At least he'd be with his family. 

No. He can't think like that. He can't lose it right now, when it's life and death. If Nile can stay calm, he can too. Just compartmentalize, just like they were taught. Shove it away and open it later, right now there's a job to do. 

He pulls up the MAV's read outs and finishes the flight sequences. Launching is now the primary goal, and damn if he isn't going to do his best. Not if it's only them left to make it home. The MAV isn't designed to be run by a crew of three, but he'll make it work. 

"Book!" Quynh calls from in front of him. 

"Yeah?" He looks up quickly and double takes at her tight expression. 

"Is the airlock working correctly?" 

"Of course," he spares a glance to make sure. "We came in that way. Why?" 

Quynh breaks into a tentative smile, as if smiling right now is something she's forgotten. Her eyes dart over his face and to the cabin entrance. 

"I think Andy might be back." 

Before Booker can curse in shock- _she's back? she made it back? who did she fi-_ he hears the clanging of the airlock below them, signalling that someone is now in the airlock depressurizing. 

"Guys!" Nile yells without looking away from her dash. "We're holding at 11.5, but I don't know how much longer I can keep us here! We need to do something, _fast!"_

Quynh laughs in amazement, still looking at Booker. "We're gonna launch soon, Nile! Andy's on board and coming up now." 

Glancing quickly at them, Nile smiles. "Did she bring anyo-"

"We don't know." Booker interrupts, and he hates himself just a bit more for crushing the happiness Nile and Quynh feel. 

The sound of the entrance opening makes them all turn, each holding their breath. Who will be with Andy? Is it even _Andy_ that's made it back? Is it be Joe? Can all of them leave together, can they be so lucky? 

Andy's tense face meets their gazes as she climbs into the cabin, and she nods tersely before pulling Nicky through. 

Nicky who looks unresponsive to anything. He is awake, that can be seen, but calling him 'aware' would be a stretch. His face is grim and eyes unfocused, his feet barely holding his weight. His arms hang from his sides as though he's forgotten they exist, and his head is hanging low. 

This is bad. 

There's silence in the cabin for a split moment before Nile curses again; the alarms and shaking rush back to them all, the world coming back into painful focus. 

"Here," Andy drops Nicky in his seat next to Booker's, and Nicky just sits limp, like a rag doll, not reacting. He doesn't even strap in, and Booker can already see the breaks in Andy at seeing him like this, at having to deal with an unresponsive crew member on top of _everything_ else. 

"Andy, go." Booker makes eye contact as he unstraps himself. "I've got this." She steels her shoulders and nods before heading over to the pilot seat. 

Booker quickly straps Nicky into his seat, moving his arms firmly into place. Nicky doesn't react. 

"Alright," Booker says softly, pulling at the straps one last time. "There you go, Nicolo. All set." He drops back into his seat and straps in and does one last check over the MAVs systems. Everything is all good to go (except the deathly tilt they're at, but he's ignoring it like everyone else). 

"Still at pilot release, ready for launch." Nile's voice is steady over the beeping and crashing around them. 

Booker runs a hand through Nicky's hair gently, and takes a deep breath as his lip begins to tremble. 

"I'm sorry, Commander," Nile responds to Andy's nod, and everyone ignores the break in her voice. "You need to verbally-" 

"Launch." 

Her voice is empty.

Nile nods and begins to activate the launch sequence. The pyros begin to fire, and Booker grabs Nicky's hand tightly as the MAV begins lift off. 

"I'm here, brother," he whispers quietly, and he doesn't know who he's talking to anymore. The main thrusters ignite and everything shakes even more, shakes and rattles like the world's ending. 

Maybe it is. 

Booker shuts his eyes tightly as they speed up, and focuses only on the feel of Nicky's hand in his. His brother who just lost the love of his life. His friend who has lost so much in his life already. His crew member, unresponsive and hurtling far away from his entire world. 

He can't hold the tears back any longer, and they stream down his face as he grabs tightly to the hand in his.

"Not letting go, Nicky. Promise." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! I super duper appreciate all the comments you've written! I'm so happy everyone's liking it and has been so nice!  
> Next chapter should hopefully be less sad/painful, as it will be Joe's POV on mars.   
> <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 3! We finally get to have Joe's POV and his waking up on mars!   
> I played around with the writing of this chapter, as I normally write more dialogue-driven fics than internal descriptions.
> 
> tw there are a few adult-themed jokes (the kind you would hear at like age 14) and some kinda gross descriptions of injuries. 
> 
> All of his jokes are explained (to a degree) right after he says them.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this!

Joe gasps awake and the only thing he knows is pain. Immediately, he is bombarded by pain and can barely hear his groans of pain over the alarm. His head feels like Andy's taken a drill to it; his abdomen burns, again feeling like Andy's taken a drill to it. 

He feels like he's been screwed by the drill. Many times _('screwed' as in fucked, as in sex)._

Snorting at his joke, he immediately is reminded that everything _hurts_ , and he should not be moving. He blinks a few times, and sees his visor is covered in sand. Not like during the storm, when sand was blowing everywhere and he couldn't see, but instead like he is face down in a pile of sand. 

He's alive?

What happened?

Where's Nicky? 

_Don't look, don't look,_ he chants in his head. _If you don't look, maybe they're still there, maybe you're safe, don't look, maybe the ship blew up and the pieces are scattered everywhere and you walk up to a space suit and you look down and you can see Nicolo's empty eyes staring right back at you and-_

**Oxygen level critical. Oxygen level critical.**

The high, grating, blaring noise of the oxygen alarm is what finally snaps him back into focus, snaps him out of his waking nightmare of 'maybes.' He struggles to move, can barely think with the pain clouding his mind, and his first push with his arms has him screaming in pain, screaming as his arms shake trying to stay upright. Gritting his teeth, he somehow manages to push himself to his knees, panting at the effort. Everything hurts so much, he just wants to lay down again, wants to go back to sleep. He barely has any energy. He wants to sleep, but knows, if he doesn't listen to the alarm, he'll die. 

_I love you, Nicolo. I'll be waiting for you._

_Nicky!_

_Nicky!_

**Oxygen level critical. Oxygen level critical.**

Focus! The alarm, the alarm's going off. There's a breach somewhere, his suit has a hole and is leaking into space and he won't survive much longer. He'd bet his shower ration it's the same thing that's causing all the pain. Coincidences in space mean errors, coincidences in space don't exist; everything is related. He needs to fix the breach, otherwise he dies. 

_Yusuf- don't do this to me._

_Nicolo!_

**Oxygen level critical. Oxygen level critical.**

He needs to focus. He has one goal, there's only one goal right now. Fix the breach. Fix the breach, then everything else. Then he can find Nicky, then he can worry, then he can-

Fix the breach. 

With shaking hands he reaches up to the side of his helmet and grabs the breach kit. Now comes the hard part. 

He steels himself for what he's going to see, whatever the breach is. Hopefully it's just a small cut, a hole that he can easily patch up. Something unrelated to the searing pain in his abdomen.

He knows better. Coincidences don't exist. 

He takes one last breath before looking down. 

"Holy Fucking Shit."

There's a piece of antenna sticking out from his body. A very nice, large piece of metal is protruding from his torso in a way that nothing ever should be protruding from his body.

Snorting at his joke hurts _('protruding' from him, like his dick, get it?),_ and seeing the antenna jerk makes him feel sick. Seeing how it moves while still buried _inside_ him, half in and half out, it's grotesque. The good news is that there's not that much blood, that the antenna is holding everything inside his suit.

Except for the oxygen.

"Okay, focus. Pull the antenna out, apply breach kit. You can do this. You've done it a million times in training. Nothing new. You've got this." 

**Oxygen level critical. Oxygen level critical.**

He grabs the antenna tightly with one hand, and the breach kit in the other. He takes a deep breath-

And _yanks_ the antenna out, almost blacking out from the pain. He doesn't know if he screams, he can't tell as the pressure in his suit drops even further, as even _more_ oxygen escapes into space as he depressurizes. He can't pass out, not while there's still a hole left in his suit, not when he has barely any oxygen left. He slams the breach kit over the hole, slams it over the hole where the antenna was, and he groans at the pain. 

His fingers are clumsy as he seals the kit, and he can only hope this is the only breach. If there's another, he's really going to die on mars, just like he thought- He didn't expect to live beyond the storm, didn't expect to make it out at all. Nicky-

**Oygen level stabilized.**

"Subhan Allah." He breathes out, closing his eyes for a moment. Another deep breath. "I'm alive."

_You are my moon and my life. Please-_

He fixed the breach. 

He can finally take stock. 

He doesn't know if he wants to. 

Slowly, he raises his head and looks around. It's a bright, sunny day on mars, as if there'd never been a storm at all. The landscape is awash with tones of oranges and browns, and the sunlight brightens patches of it. 

There's no wreckage. He could weep with relief, but he knows it's too early. He's been blown somewhere else, outside of base, away from the MAV. The MAV could be tipped over, maybe exploded before it even got off the ground and he can't see it, or maybe they tipped and had to go back to the HAB, but then they would be searching for him, wouldn't they? It should be easy, they should be able to track his comm and-

Looking down, he sees that his comm is cracked and broken. It must have happened when he was thrown. 

_Nicolo-_

They must have thought he died. Thought he died on impact with the antenna and was blown far away, his body welcomed and buried in the orange sand. 

_Nicky-_

He must think he's dead too. He must be, he- Nicolo has no family left. Joe has been his only family for years, the same way Nicky is for Joe, but Joe didn't lose all his family at once, didn't wake up one day to the news that everyone who loved him was gone and-

And now he's alone again. Joe's dead too, now. He has no one left. 

Sure, he has Andy, Booker, Nile, and Quynh, the whole crew, but it's not the same. He can barely think about how Nicky must feel, about what's running through his mind right now. 

"Oh, my moon," he whispers, eyes beginning to water. 

Nicky's blaming himself. Joe knows. He's blaming himself for not holding on tighter, for not seeing the antenna, for not going with him. Even though Joe told him it would never be his fault. It could never be. Joe _chose_ to let go, to give his life so that Nicky could have a chance at-

Everyone else will be beating themselves up too. Andy will be the harshest, but only in her mind. She'll get angry at her for losing a crew member, for failing as a Commander. Nile, somehow will find a way to blame herself. Quynh, well, she'll blame being unable to find him. Presumably, they searched for him via comm, and Quynh will be blaming herself for not finding him, regardless that the comm is dead and broken. 

And Booker. Fuck, Joe hopes he doesn't fall back into old habits. Booker can be even worse than Andy at self-criticism, can be even worse at dealing with it. Joe doesn't want to see his brother fall back down there again. Not when everyone needs each other to be strong. Not when _Nicky_ needs everyone to be strong. 

Joe takes a deep, trembling breath and tries to wipe the tears from his eyes. He has to laugh when all he does is bang his hand into his visor. 

"Get it together, Joe," he says to himself, trying to push everything aside. "That was a rookie mistake, and we are not a rookie. We're gonna survive. One step at a time."

He nods and looks around again. This place looks familiar, looks like it might be a klik or two from the HAB. If he heads southeast, he should be able to reach the HAB before the sun sets. 

Though, with his injury, he has no clue what will happen. 

"One goal," he nods again. "Get to the HAB. Get to the HAB." 

Struggling to his feet, he tilts forward dangerously, and again snorts at his own joke _('tilts,' just like the MAV did)_. He manages to stay upright after wobbling some more. Looking to the south, he realizes he is actually at the bottom of a hill, a very large hill. 

"Fucking shit." Why does mars keep being so fucking hard? Does mars have it out for him? How does his day keep getting worse? It started off pretty badly!

 _Focus!_ Andy's voice rings out in his head. _Quit loitering and get going! Hell, al-Kaysani, how'd they even let you become an astronaut?_

"Sir, yes sir," he mutters, brain kicking into gear. He bends down and picks up the antenna he pulled from his body. If nothing else, he can use it to help him up the hill. 

"Forget almost dying in a mars storm," he says as he begins climbing. "I'm going to die climbing up this goddamn hill. I'll have survived a deadly mars sand storm and being skewered with an antenna, only to be killed by a little trek up a hill. With less gravity too. Booker will never let me live this shit down." 

The sun shines brightly all around, and Joe only wishes that there was more to look at. If he has to distract himself _and_ trek up this hill, he at least wants to not be bored out of his mind. A cool rock would be nice, maybe a canyon, you know? All he gets instead is the dull, familiar landscape. 

There's a lot of orange, some brown. He sees orange, orange, brown, orange, some brighter orange in the sun, brown, orange, some darker orange in the shade. Some small rocks. Some bigger orange rocks. Smaller brown rocks. Rocks. Orange. Brown. Dirt. You know. Mars.

Orange. 

He continues like this for awhile.

"I'd like to state for the record-" He gasps for air, almost at the top now, just a bit further. He can do this. "-that I, Yusuf al-Kaysani-" pants again "-should get a goddamn award for this."

He doesn't know how long it takes, but somehow he finds himself stumbling the last few feet up the hill, body numb with exhaustion. Somehow, he made it to the top. 

"About time," he mutters to himself, trying to keep his legs from giving out. 

He doesn't want to look yet.

Oh, the irony of needing to see if the HAB is still there, and at the same time not wanting to see what happened, not wanting to think about what might be there, _who_ migh-

_My love-_

"Nic- no, not now, I can't." He takes a deep breath and blinks away the dampness in his eyes. "Okay. Just get to the HAB. One goal."

Steeling himself, he raises his head slowly, and looks for the HAB. It sits far away, happily glinting in the sunlight. The exterior is battered, has score marks on the side, dents, and coated with dust, but still there. 

"Just like me." He jokes humorlessly _(battered and covered in sand just like the HAB)_. 

It's in bad shape, and equipment is strewn all over the place, uprooted, destroyed, and tossed around. But it looks whole, it looks like it still is functioning, or could be made to function again. And that's all he needs right now.

He just has one last thing to check, one 'quick and done' look and that's it. He can do it. Nothing to be afraid of.

His heart pounds anyways.

He bites his lip and turns. His eyes fall to the MAV launch site. 

It's empty. 

_Nicky-_

_Please-_

Andy shouts in his head. _You don't have time to think about that, al-Kaysani!_ He feels himself straighten and face forward again, instincts winning out over his spiraling thoughts. _Get to the HAB, or you're a dead man. For real this time._

Closing his eyes, he shoves all the thoughts away. All the wondering about the crew; how they are, how Nicky- did they make it? did they _get out in-_

Shoves it away. Shoves it away, locks the box, turns off the lights, torches the place. Not now. He can't do this right now. He needs to focus on getting safe (relatively), then he can break down. Focus on getting to the HAB, then he can-

Deep breath. 

The HAB shines on the horizon, and it feels like a dream. Everything feels like a nightmare and a fever dream at once, like he is barely real, like he's one bad thought away from ceasing to exist. That he stopped existing the moment the MAV-

He repositions his grip on his antenna, and takes a deep breath. Sets his shoulders, checks his oxygen level. 

"Get to the HAB." 

Nodding to himself, he slowly begins the long trek back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know how you think it's going, esp if this chapter's writing worked for you! His later chapters will have more dialogue which i'm comfier with, but i also don't want this shitty wake up call on mars to be glossed over.  
> As usual, I adore comments, kudos', and linking my fic! I'm on tumblr at the same name, come talk if u ever want :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a very very short chapter! it was too long to be a section of one chapter, but too short to be really in depth chapter. so here it is! i hope you all like it :) 
> 
> shout out to everyone who has commented, you've literally made my life so much better and i think about you all constantly. <3
> 
> (Copley has appeared! also, i couldn't find quynh's last name? so i just used her actors last name (ngo). please lmk if one of u knows it!)

**Hello, my name is Copley, and I have some important news to share about our Old Guard Mission. At about 4:30am, central standard time, this morning, our Guard team satellites detected a storm approaching the Old Guard mission site on Mars.**

  
**By 6:45am, the storm had escalated to "severe," and we had no choice but to abort the mission.**

  
**Thanks to the quick thinking of Commander Scythia, astronauts le Livre, di Genova, Freeman, and Ngo were all able to reach the Mars Ascent Vehicle and perform an emergency launch at 7:28am central time.**

  
**We must unfortunately announce that, during the evacuation, astronaut Yusuf al-Kaysani was struck by debris and killed. Commander Scythia and the rest of her team were able to intercept safely with the primary Guard Ship and are now heading home.**

  
**But Yusuf al-Kaysani is dead.**

* * *

**This just in, breaking news:**

**Astronaut Yusuf al-Kaysani of the Old Guard Mars Mission has died on Mars. A storm at 6:45cst this morning forced the Old Guard team to perform an emergency evacuation, during which point astronaut al-Kaysani was hit and killed by debris. The Old Guard mission headquarters reports that all other crew members were able to safely evacuate and are now on their way back to Earth.**

* * *

**It is with deep displeasure, that we are here today to inform you all that Yusuf al-Kaysani, astronaut of the Mars Mission, has been killed. He is said to have perished after being hit by debris during an emergency evacuation from Mars due to dangerous storm conditions. His remaining crew members, Scythia, le Livre, Ngo, di Genova, and Freeman, were able to safely launch from the Mars surface and are on their way home.**

* * *

**Once again, we will keep you and the public informed of all updates. We are in contact with the crew and are reviewing our records and satellite footage with great detail. Our hearts go out to al-Kaysani's family and friends. He served with honor.**

* * *

**As you can see behind me, a massive crowd has gathered outside of Yusuf al-Kaysani's family home in a show of support and grief. Since the news was first delivered earlier this morning, people have since set up a small section for flowers, pictures, and candles.**

  
**There has been no news from his family and friends, nor any reaction from those inside the house. We expect the mourning and vigil to last through the night, and we will be here reporting throughout it.  
**

* * *

**Mr. di Genova is not available for questions at this time, and we ask you to all respect his space during this time of grief. He has lost a husband, and we are not going to be bothering him with questions that exacerbate his pain and grief. Have some respect! There will be consequences to any who continue in this vein, as well as those ambushing the friends and family of the Old Guard crew.**

**We will keep you aware of the situation.**

  
**That will be all, no further questions.**

* * *

**At this time, there have been no further updates from the Old Guard mission headquarters. Another small vigil has begun at the gates to the headquarters, with a crowd mourning together in the face of such horrible news. Flowers, candles, pictures, drawings, notes, and prayers litter the ground and gates, and the crowd continues to grow as people make their way here to pay their respects.**

  
**In such uncertain times, we can only remember the founding phrase of the Old Guard space program:**

  
_**May we be amongst the stars, the darkness, and the cosmos. May we forever dream of such endless night.  
** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! your comments mean the world to me and i think of them daily <3   
> <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's another short one (not as short tho), mostly because after this it 'switches' to joe/mark's video logs, so it's easier to separate those from this. I'm still tinkering with how I will show them/if they will be video logs or regular storytelling in which he happens to be talking out loud to a camera (if that makes sense lol).
> 
> Anyways! This is gonna suck bc Joe is in pain and v sad. But after this we go to Joe's video diary and him coping/being funny! Just gotta get through this part first, my dears. <3 
> 
> (there is more description of his wound, not too graphic (mentions of temperature and blood and insides, so feel free to skip over those quick sentences <3 lmk if u want more info) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!!!

Stumbling into the airlock, Joe's hands slip as he shuts the door to the outside, panting and leaning against the inner door as he waits for the pressure to equalize. As soon as the airlock beeps, he pushes through the door and tears off his helmet.

"Fuck fuck fuck," he pants, already beginning the painful work of peeling off his suit from his battered body. He winces as he removes the fabric from where he has been stabbed. He drops his suit before he gently probes at the wound, hissing in pain.

"Okay, okay. That's pretty deep, Joe. Kinda bad. You know, beyond the being trapped on mars part." He mutters to himself, twisting to feel along his back, checking for an exit wound. 

He sighs in relief when he finds none, glad that at least the antenna hasn't gone _all_ the way through, that he doesn't have two different wounds to fix up. 

An upside to a serious downside occurring during the biggest downside of his life. (One wound when being stabbed by an antenna while being stranded on mars). 

So, you know, a positive. That's how he's going to think about it. 

"Focus, Joe, you're losing blood. Focus." 

He grabs the broken antenna he brought with him, studying the end that he had pulled from himself. It's covered in blood, and he slowly traces the end point, noting that it's jagged. Jagged like-

-a piece of antenna broke off inside of him.

"Shiiiiiittt," he breathes out. "That's really bad. That's pretty bad." 

Nile would be laughing at him right now for stating the obvious, though she would be worried too. Nicky would be at his side already, trying to prop him up as Booker grabbed the medkit. Andy would've called Quynh, who has the steadiest hands, over to help get the piece of antenna out from his wound. He'd be able to lay back, hold Nicky's hand, listen to Nile's and Booker's bantering and teasing, see Andy and Quynh softly smiling at them all- 

_I love you, Nicolo. I'll be waiting for you._

He can't tell if his tears are from the pain of his wound or the pain of knowing everyone is gone, that he won't ever see them again, that Nicky thinks he's dead and that-

"C'mon c'mon," he pulls himself away from his suit and stumbles toward the first aid station. His body jerks as he knocks into the shelves, gasping for breath as he clumsily begins to root around the buckets for the supplies he needs. 

Anesthetic, syringe, forceps, needle, suture thread. 

"This is gonna suck, this is gonna suck. You can do this Joe, c'mon." 

His hands are trembling as he loads the syringe full of anesthetic; he feels too hot, like he's going to pass out. He's gotta do this, he can't leave the piece of antenna in there, he can't have an open wound out here. Not when his goal is to get back to Nicky, get back to his family, to earth.

He jabs the syringe into his wound and injects the anesthetic (for all the help it will do; not enough for something this bad). 

"I don't want to do this, I don't but I gotta, I gotta." He takes a deep breath; he's gotta get the antenna out. He closes his eyes for a moment before taking another breath. "Okay, for Nicky. I can do this." 

"Three, two, one!" 

He screams as he digs the forceps into his wound, his vision dancing with spots as he fights against unconsciousness, pain overwhelming every sense and thought. 

"Don't pass out, Joe. _Gotta,_ _Nicky,_ _fuck-"_

He probes deeper into his wound, grimacing in agony as he tries to find the antenna lodged in his body. 

He can't find it, jesus christ where _is it-_

He pushes the forceps deeper, almost numb to the terrible pain taking over his entire body, to the alien feeling of cold metal digging into warm flesh, of blood rushing down his stomach. His face is almost blanched of all color, covered in sweat as he fights to stay conscious and just _find it-_

Miraculously, he finds it. Somehow, he gets the forceps around the shrapnel and yanks it free, biting off a cry and dropping the piece of metal on the table in front of him, dark with blood. 

"It's out, it's out. Subhan Allah. Holy shit." He quickly grabs the needle and thread, tries to thread the thread into the needle but his hands are shaking too much, the pain too much. He clenches his fists in frustration.

"C'mon, Joe. You gotta." 

He breathes and steadies himself just enough to get the thread through and begins to stitch himself up. Stitch by agonizing stitch, dizzy and dazed but he can't stop, he _refuses to_ until the wound is closed. When that's done he can rest, just has to get through this first. 

Finally, he finishes. He clips the sutures clumsily and falls back into his chair in relief. 

"Jesus fuck," he breathes out, trying to catch his breath and blink away the dark at the edges of his vision. He closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing, stop his body from trembling from the pain. 

When the pain and trembling are enough to handle, he slowly sits up and looks around. The HAB is deserted, empty of all the needed supplies that were taken during the evacuation. Empty of everyone he's spent the last many months with. Empty of Nicky-

_Yusuf- don't do this to me._

He bites his lip to stop the trembling as tears begin to flow down his face, as his body begins to jerk with silent sobs. 

Fuck, he's in agony. He's been wounded. He's been left for dead. No crew, barely any supplies. All by himself. The only man on the planet.

_No Nicky, no Nicolo, no Moon-_

He's openly sobbing now, uncaring of the sharp pain of his stitches, uncaring of the lightheadedness encroaching his mind. He can barely breathe, can't take the pain of being all alone out here, so far from Nicky, so far from his family, stranded on a planet while everyone thinks he's dead. Everyone thinks he's died in the storm, they're not coming back for him, they're not looking for him. They're mourning and going home, getting further and further away from him, the hope of rescue diminishing each moment-

He cries until he no longer feels like a person, like he even exists at all. He sobs through his pain, through the excruciating truth that he is alone, more alone than he's ever been in his entire life. He cries out his pain, fear, and hopelessness until blackness starts to take over his vision, making the world fade in and out-

_His hand is gripping Nicolo's tightly-_

_"My love-"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! 
> 
> I super duper appreciate your comments, all of them. I love and reply to every single one, and it really helps me keep going and learning new ideas from you all!   
> Please kudos, comment, or rec if you like!!! <3 <3
> 
> come scream at me in comments or tumblr :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short again, but that's bc we have this log format and i wanted to have him setting up the plants as a longer chapter (the next one!). Next one i promise will be longer lmao
> 
> (also to anyone abt the hadestown AU i 'started' im v sorry, i have no idea when i'll get back to it bc i can apparently do 2 wips, but not 3 at once. thanks for understanding, i'm still v interested in writing it at a diff time!)

"Okay, okay, just a bit more that way-" Joe angles the camera he set up hanging from the wall, tongue stuck out in concentration. 

"Okay, I'm not sure this is on," he presses a button on the keyboard in front of him, and the red light comes on showing that the camera is recording. "Ha! There we go." 

He sits back and looks at the camera hesitantly, his words suddenly gone as he tries to think of what to say.

What does one say when trapped on mars with barely any hope of rescue? 

"Well, hi everyone," he awkwardly waves, "this is Joe al-Kaysani. Astronaut. You might have heard of me. I- I'm entering this log for the record, in case I-" he swallows thickly, "-don't make it. It's, uh..." he glances at the clock, "oh-six-fifty-three on sol 19. And-" 

Smiling tentatively, he spreads his hands wide. "-I'm still alive." He laughs thinly. "Obviously. But I'm guessing this will be a surprise to everyone. Nicky, the crew, the Old Guard, and- the world, too. So, um... surprise." 

Nervously, he takes a deep breath, his weak smile from before disappearing as he looks directly into the camera. 

"Nicky, my love," he begins raggedly, "I didn't die on sol 18. I'm know you are thinking it, that _everyone_ is. But I'm okay, I promise. Don't worry. I'm going to find my way back to you, my Moon. I swear." 

Looking away, the moment ends. He shakes himself before attempting to smile again. He holds up the antenna he pulled from himself not too long ago.

"This is part of our primary communications antenna, which tore through my bio-monitor. And ripped a hole in me as well. A Joe-shishkabob. Shiska-joe? Anyways, it _was_ horrible, thank you for asking. But, the antenna- and the blood- managed to seal my suit; which kept me alive. Even though everyone must have thought I was dead." 

He looks away from the camera, eyes going blank as he absently fiddles with the antenna. It's a long time before he turns back. 

"Nicky, _Nicolo._ My love, this is not your fault. If you ever hear this, if I don't get to tell you in person like I plan to, please believe me. I do not blame you, you did what you had to do and so did I. I love you more than the stars themselves, and just knowing that you are safe and alive makes everything worth it. So-" he quickly wipes his eyes before teasing: "I expect you to be on your best behavior until I get back to you. Nile will totally tell me if you aren't. Don't think she won't." 

He laughs and says: "Commander- Andy. Listen. It wasn't your fault either. You are an amazing commander and you got everyone else out. All signs pointed to me being dead. In a massive storm. Anyone else would have made the same call. So don't beat yourself up over this. I'm glad you guys made it." 

He runs a hand through his hair. "Alright, enough of that." He leans forward. "Here's the situation, the sitch, the haps, the 411. The whole caboose. I, Joe, am stranded on mars. I have no way to contact Old Guard on ground, because our communications antenna broke and shishka-joe'ed me. Which we've covered. Even if I could contact them, the next manned mission to mars isn't scheduled to get here until four years from now. So, that's not cool. And, I'm in a HAB that is only designed to last thirty-one days. And whatever the storm did to it." 

He points to the camera with the antenna still in his grip, enunciating his sentences with it. "If the oxygenator breaks, I'll suffocate." Points again. "If the water reclaimer breaks, I'll die of thirst. If the HAB breaches, I'll just kinda- implode, really. _And,_ if by some miracle, none of those happen, I'm going to run out of food eventually." He lowers the antenna, staring at it. "So, yeah. That's where I'm at. Just, you know." 

He trails off, eyes far away. "You know." 

* * *

"Okay." 

The camera is on, and Joe is laying on the floor of the HAB, hair sticking up in all directions, dark bags under his eyes. The HAB has been cleaned up to the best it could be; things picked up off the floor, broken things put in one area, still working parts back in their places. 

He gestures above himself while looking at the ceiling, not even looking at the camera. 

"Since being stranded here, I have concluded the following:" He begins to count on his fingers. "One, I’ve been in a dust storm for several sols." Moves to the next finger. "Two, I have to think of something. Or die. I'm working on that part right now." 

Turning to look at the camera, there are tear tracks down his face, but he's smiling. "Nicky, my love, wherever you are; remember how we always joked that I was the very lowest ranked member of the crew, and that I would only be 'in command' if I were the only one left?" 

He laughs and turns back to looking at the ceiling. "Well, I'm in command now. SUCK IT, NILE." He fist bumps the air. 

* * *

"I've been thinking." 

Joe is back to sitting in front of the camera, and in the background, the HAB looks different. There are silver bags piled high against the wall, there are markings on another section of wall, what look like numbers and boxes. There are note cards scattered, or organized haphazardly, on the floor in a semi-circle. Again, mostly clean and organized, the dents and scrapes on inside walls part of the scenery now. 

Joe also looks different. But also the same. 

Looks a bit ragged, but he smiles widely. Stubble is slowly coming in on his face and neck, and his hair is a mess. But he looks alright, no longer flinching when he moves his torso the wrong way, not clenching his teeth in pain as often. 

"First of all, I'd like to apologize for going AWOL for a few days, or as AWOL as I can here." He smiles winningly. "I know, I know. You all missed my lovely face, my charming good looks. My _sexy_ brain." He waggles his eyebrows before blowing a kiss to the camera. "My fans, so worried about me. I know you all just want a piece of this." He gestures to his body before laughing out loud. He eventually gets a hold of himself. 

"Anyways, today is sol 23. I'm pretty sure the storms have died down, but I haven't actually gotten around to checking. Instead, I've been _thinking-_ doing what the big guys pay me to do. Do you think I'm gonna get back pay for this? Like, once I get back, will they have to compensate me for all I've done? Maybe they'll bribe me to keep quiet about being forgotten on mars (unlikely though, I could use some bribe money. Maybe give it to my parents). Do you think Nicky will get compensation? Or will the entire crew be bribed? I don't know. 

"Regardless, I've been putting my sexy brain to use. Here's what I've learned:

"Our mission here was supposed to take 31 days. For redundancy, because you know, why not, ground sent enough food to last 68 days. For six of us. So, for just little old me, that will last 300 days. And I figure that I can stretch that to about 400 days if I ration correctly. So, that's about a year or so. That means I would still need to figure out how to grow three years worth of food." 

He nods. "Here. On mars. On a planet where nothing grows." He smiles widely and spreads his hands. "Now, you might think this is a hopeless scenario, of course. Growing food on a planet that grow anything? 'Joe, how ever will you survive?' 'How will your dashing good looks help you now?' Well, my worried friends, I'm in luck: I'm a botanist." 

He holds up a paper from his mission briefs, pointing to his name at the top:

**Joe al-Kaysani; Botanist**

"Impressive, right? I got the paper (and degrees I guess) to prove it. I'm a botanist alright, the best ever. We know this, because _I_ was the one sent to mars." 

Zoning out again, it's minutes later that he re-focuses. Shaking his head and blinking in confusion, he looks up at the camera, eyes serious and intense before his face suddenly changes and he's smiling wide.   
  
"With my botanist super powers, I shall endeavor where no one has ever before. Mars will soon come to _fear_ my botany powers! This planet can't handle Joe al-Kaysani; mars won't even see me coming!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the pov worked for this chapter! I hope this one isn't as sad, but also that it feels like he isn't just forgetting everyone.   
> kudos', comments, recs, or anything are super duper appreciated! I LOVE replying to comments ALWAYS. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry it's taken long to update. On one hand, i totally don't have a schedule and told u all, on the other hand, i've gotten in the habit to post maybe once a week. I got a lot of work suddenly, so it might be a bit hectic for a time and it takes me longer to write/post things.   
> it still makes me super happy to write this and hear what everyone has to say!
> 
> For this chapter, we have some more trigger warnings, but nothing too heavy/intense.   
> Joe does mention manure and human feces/waste briefly. when he asks how to make soil in the HAB, just skip the next two paragraphs and start at "now i have soil."   
> Slight emetephobia/vomit mention, also in the same places as the manure mention above, so just follow those guidelines.
> 
> This is the scene where he blows up/there is a fire/explosion. So, just skip the final paragraph after "water! on mars!" if u want to avoid
> 
> Joe also has a panic attack, which i know i didn't tw before, but i am here bc it involves memories/loss of reality (more in end notes). If you want to not deal with all of that, skip the entire section after he blows up.

The camera is on, and Joe is working in the background, completely focused on his task. All around him are the silver bags that used to be in the corner. They are filled to the brim with _something,_ and are able to sit up on their own. A group of silver bags is off to one side, a large plastic box off to another side. In between them lies a massive pile of dirt from outside, red and orange dusty dirt. 

Joe is covered in the same dust, halfway up his pant legs, all over his torso, and covering his hands entirely. Wearing a baseball cap backwards on his head, he hums a tune as he works, flitting from the dirt pile to the bags, to the work table. 

On the back wall, the tally of days continues to be updated in precise marker point. The most recent,

Sol 31

* * *

"Alright, nerds!" Joe calls from the middle of the room, arms spread wide with a big smile on his face. He's standing in the middle of the HAB, and everything has been pushed to the outside edges. Tarps of plastic hang from the ceiling, forming a circular wall surrounding the center area. Swathes of tarps cover every available surface, peaking out from under the dirt that now covers the entirety of the floor and flat surfaces. Tables, bunks, countertops. No longer as orange and bright as before, the dirt is now a reddish-brown color, with equidistant rows of divots drawn into them.

"So, you may have realized that things look a bit different in here, huh? I know, I know. Home decorating is one of my many underappreciated skills, I'm amazing at it, according to me - Nicky still argues he's better; love of my life." He laughs before waving his hand and pointing to the camera. "Any guesses for what I'm doing here?" 

He holds a hand to his ear, straining to listen for pretend responses. "That's right!" He exclaims. "It's planting time, baby. Let me show you how it's done." 

"Okay," he claps once, "so first off, as you all know, plants need soil. And all I had was this dusty fucking mars dirt. Which can't grow anything. So, I needed to make my own soil. Now, how do you make soil from mars dirt and whatever else is in the HAB?" 

He grimaces, nose scrunching up and mouth pinching as if in pain. "Manure. That's what makes soil so good. Manure, shit, the things plants love to have. And you might be saying, 'Joe, you're on mars, where the hell did you find manure?' The answer is simple and also disgusting- but that's science really- we already had some! We even brought it _with_ us! In fact, right now, all of us, even _you,_ are little manure makers! I know, manure doesn't _technically_ come from humans, but that's not my biggest worry right now." 

Squatting down, he picks up a handful of soil. "I mixed the mars dirt with the HAB manure and some water. It was super gross, I admit, I nearly puked a few times. It was awful. I had tried to prepare myself, even stuck some ear plugs up my nose, but that stuff is _intense_. Anyways, dirt plus shit plus water equals soil. Easy." The soil holds its shape in his hand, looking almost just like earth soil. He lets it fall back to the floor. 

"Now I have soil to grow things in. 'Oh no!' you say, 'what will you plant, Super Botany Man? Surely you weren't sent seeds for a thirty day trip with all food provided?'"

Turning around, he goes over to a worktop not piled with soil, grabbing a see-through bag, and holds it next to his head. "During the thirty days we were supposed to be here, it would/will be Thanksgiving on Earth, and the Guard's shrinks thought it would be a _great_ idea for us to have a homemade meal together. Now, Thanksgiving is the shittiest holiday ever, celebrating the beginning of a genocidal, imperialistic presence in the Americas and the horrible history that followed, you know. So, ground thought it would be a good idea to celebrate that. _However,_ lucky for me, beyond the whole 'being stranded on mars without rescue' thing, is that they sent us _whole_ potatoes." He shakes the bag. "Just look at these cute guys! So small and yummy." The bag crinkles as he pats it gently a few times. After a minute he looks up again. 

"Where was I?" Looking around, he begins to mutter under his breath, "Dirt, manure, soil, potatoes, genocide, potatoes...oh!" He turns to the camera and grins. "I, the amazing Super Botany Man, now have soil _and_ things to grow! And now, I will show you how." Heading over to the work table again, he drags it closer to the camera. On it, he places the bags of potatoes, a knife, a bucket, and a bottle of muddy liquid. 

"Here, we have our set-up. al-Kaysani's home cooking show, brought to you live from mars. Don't tell my husband, he's a really good cook and will laugh his ass off at me. Man," he groans, "what I wouldn't give for one of his meals right now. I'd eat anything, if he served me a piece of white bread, I would thank him, and get on my knees- WHOOPS." He cuts himself off hastily. "-I am not talking about that. I'm am cooking. Obviously. Well, planting more like it. Not talking about it. Anyways- first step: We get a potato." 

Grabbing the knife, he carefully slices through the bag and pulls out a potato. Setting it on the table, he cuts it into four quarters slowly. "Now, we're cutting the potato because we need to grow as many as possible. Each of these potatoes has what we call eyes," he uses the knife to point to small bumps on the potato peel, "and we want ideally two eyes on each quarter, to give it the best chance of sprouting. And so we do this to every potato." 

Joe continues to cut potatoes for a while, humming and chattering to himself in equal measures, focusing on his task intently. Often, he'll address the camera casually, keeping up his one sided conversation easily.

"So Nile," he grins conspiratorially, "guess what I found? I'll give you a hint, it wasn't what I expected from someone who goes around calling me 'old man' every time she can, complaining about culture and being 'hip.'" He cuts the last potato and places it in the bucket with the others. "Seventies television? Really? And you call _me_ dated? A hypocrite, I tell you. Shame shame shame." Shaking his head fondly, he moves back to the soil with the bucket full of potatoes and the bottle of muddied water. 

"Alright, kids, the next step is to plant these fuckers." Shakes the bucket. "First, we make some orderly rows, which I have already done here with my handy-dandy friend Stabby McAntena. Say hello to the kids, Stabby." 

Waving to the antenna propped against the work table, he whispers, "I think we've gotten over our differences now." He grins before looking back to the camera. "I gotta plant all these. Which is tedious. And, though I'm sure you all would _love_ to ogle my beautiful ass when I bend down to plant, I will sadly have to say goodbye. Tune in tomorrow to see what happens next! al-Kaysani out."

* * *

"As you can see, this is _not_ the HAB." Joe smiles at the camera he's brought with him outside. It's propped against the truck he drove over. The sun is bright, reflecting off his suit with it's sealed-up patch and scraped helmet. He gestures to the large rocket behind him.

"This is the Mars Descent Vehicle, or the MDV, or _'the OG space truck.'_ This is the ship that brought us down to mars. Why am I out here? Well, it's for the plants. See, I've created 126 square meters of soil. But, each square meter needs 40 liters of water to be farm-able. And I don't have that much water, obviously. A farming bubble, the HAB is not. So, I have to make a lot of water." He smiles. "Fortunately, I know the recipe. Take hydrogen. Add oxygen. Burn. _Unfortunately,_ step 'burn.'" 

_Ah, my least and favorite step, all in one,_ he thinks.

Grinning, he pats the MDV side. A hose is already attached, leading to a large metal cylinder, similar to a grill propane tank but bulkier. "I have hundreds of liters of unused Hydrazine in here- that's my hydrogen. If I run the hydrazine over an iridium catalyst, it'll separate into N2 and H2. Simple." 

_Using rocket fuel to create water. Just a regular day, Joe. What could possibly go wrong?_ He tries not to let his smile falter.

"First step is just getting the hydrazine out." 

* * *

"Alright, Joe," he mutters to himself, back in the HAB with the hydrazine containers. He doesn't want to admit it, but he still has his reservations about this. Yes, he did the calculations. Yes, he is very sure he knows what he's doing. Yes, if everyone else was here, Andy would knock him out for trying this shit. 

But, achingly, they aren't here, and he needs water to survive, and at least he knows what he's doing- like, 90% sure it will work- and at least he can't really make his situation worse-

That is a terrible lie, and he knows it. He isn't thinking about it. 

He grabs the needed materials, dragging his work top table to the center of his potato field where the support beam is. He gets to work.

* * *

"Welcome back to 'Joe does stupid shit but it's called Science because he's a Botanist playing with dangerous shit' show! I could have finished faster, but I figured that caution's best when setting fire to rocket fuel in an enclosed place. Such as the HAB. The only place I can survive on mars." 

He looks both tired and excited- the normal state these days. He points to the apparatus he's made. It kinda looks like a fireplace, if the fireplace was a four-post plastic tent with a large chimney that decided to light all the smoke on fire. Somehow. 

"Let me walk you through. I've essentially made a way to break down hydrazine into N2 and H2. Here, in this tiny tent made of $5,000 worth of plastic space kitchen bags, I drip the hydrazine onto the iridium pieces, causing it to separate into H2." He points to the chimney next. "Since H2 is a gas, it goes up through this chimney here, I know, not that pretty to look at, where it will meet an open flame, and burn. This burn causes the O2 I have venting at the end of the chimney and the H2 react. When that happens, we get water, which will, Inshallah, form on the plastic walls I've set up." 

Taking a step back, he admires his work. Creating water in space, on mars? This was not taught in space class, in all the preparations they made to go up here. Nope, they had their machine, which would last them the entire journey and back. 

He wishes he could show everyone what he's doing.

He wishes he didn't have to have do this. 

He can't--

The strong pressure of his hands pressing into his eyes grounds him in a way that he desperately needs. It's no use thinking those thoughts, he needs to focus on the real, what's actually happening around him. 

His palms are warm and littered with small cuts and blisters from his activities. The dark in front of him is safe and calm as the rest of his body shakes. He breathes deeply, but it hitches.

_Focus, Joe. Here and now. It's okay._

Is any of this truly important-

_You need to get back to Nicky, hold him in your arms again. Try and remember the feeling-_

Does he really think he's going to get back to him?

Slowly, ever so slowly, he calms his breathing down, relaxes until his body is no longer shaking and in danger of falling over. 

He can do this.

He _will_ do this. 

Starting by removing his hands, he winces as bright light pierces his eyes. His hands grip the table tightly, and he forces himself to let go. 

_For Nicky._

"So, making water," his voice catches, "Pretty easy, right? Unfortunately, nothing that ever goes into space burns. Because fire is the number one enemy in space. Because of the whole 'fire makes everyone die horribly in space' thing. So," he gestures at his surroundings. "Everything we brought here is flame retardant." He can feel the grin on his face. " _Except,_ no one can get around a determined arsonist with a tank of pure oxygen." 

He holds up a small wooden cross that has been filed to a point at the bottom, wiggling it in front of the camera. "I would like to apologize to Nile, as I have taken your wooden cross to use as my fire source. If you didn't want me to burn it, you should've taken it with when you left me here." The tiny Jesus on the cross stares up at him. "I figure he wouldn't mind, you know, considering my situation." 

He smirks, amused at his jokes, ignoring the silence. "Alright, let's make some water." 

He turns from the camera and begins to get everything ready. Starts the hydrazine flow from the tank, opens the drip over the iridium, starts the wood shavings on fire using wires from a battery, places them on a grate over the chimney, and opens the O2 tank valve next to it. 

The flame sputters as the hydrazine begins separating, causing the hydrogen gas to go up the chimney and spark. It's beautiful, in an organic way, the strong flame moving and sparking as hydrogen reacts with the oxygen, lighting up together. It's beautiful, he has enough hydrazine, he will have enough water to grow potatoes, to survive! 

He can't pull his eyes away from it, it's so entrancing. Everything looks perfect. He's succeeded. He's done it. 

Water! 

On Mars!

He sees the fire catch on a large amount of H2, eyes widening as he realizes what is about to occur, but he has no time to react. He can barely brace himself before he's thrown back by a large fireball, hot hot hot heat and pressure bruising against his body as he's flung away, painfully colliding with the floor and blacking out. 

* * *

Everything is blurry, he thinks groggily, trying to blink his heavy eyelids. It's bright, and everything smells like smoke. He has the feeling something happened, something bad has happened and he needs to be reacting, but his head spins and everything hurts. 

Smoke-

Doesn't that mean-

"FIRE!" He yells, rolling to his knees and coughing painfully. There must be a leak somewhere, the ship has a leak or a spark and they're all going to die if they don't find it. The fire will consume them or all the oxygen and they'll die anyways. 

"FIRE!" He calls again, staggering to his feet, still unable to make out the fuzzy shapes in front of him. Not people, right?

"NICKY!" 

He prays Nicky isn't near by, isn't caught in the fire that's somewhere, that's knocked him unconscious. He wants Nicky to be far away and also near so that he can make sure he's safe. "NICOLO!" Why isn't he answering?! 

He coughs again, rocking on his feet as he frantically blinks, trying to get things to focus. His ears are ringing loudly, maybe that's why Nicky isn't responding? Joe just can't here him calling back.

Shapes start to sharpen, and his brain freezes in confusion.

There's no fire, it mus all have burned out. He can't see anything bright like fire. 

No, what he can see is a lot of plastic sheeting- what? That doesn't make any sense. The ship doesn't have-

He shakes his head, ignoring the pain. Why doesn't he recognize the ship?

Shaking his head again, he tries to take a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he breathes before opening them again.

He's in the HAB.

That's why he doesn't recognize it.

He was making water. He was burning the hydrogen. 

It was going so well.

It must have exploded. 

This _isn't-_

 _Fuck,_ it feels like someone has stabbed him through the heart. It feels like he's choking on the memories, large and heavy as the try to consume him whole. This isn't the ship, of course it isn't. Why would it be? He's not going to see the ship ever again. He feels tears start to slide down his face. There's no one in danger, it's only him. No Nicky. No crew. Breathing doesn't seem as easy any longer, it feels like he's being crushed under everything. It's only him. There's no fire. This isn't the ship. He feels like he's being broken into a million pieces, like everything he is is ripping apart in agony, bloody and dirty and relentless. The ringing in his ear drowns out the sounds of him hyperventilating, providing terrible sounds for his panicking mind. 

_Nicolo-_

He falls to his knees, hands scrabbling against the dirt beneath him. 

He feels heavy. 

His heart feels too heavy for his bones. 

He isn't getting enough air in- he's so dizzy. Disoriented-

When he falls on his side, face mashed against the dirt and plastic, before he closes his eyes to the overwhelming darkness, he reaches out in painful desperation, grasping for the vain hope that he will find _Nicky_ reaching back for him.

* * *

The camera focuses on Joe sitting listlessly, uncaring of the scorched clothing with charred edges, the patches of singed hair, or the dirt and soil smeared on his face. His eyes are closed, and tear tracks run through the dirt caking his face.

He's tired, so tired. 

"So," he sighs deeply, not opening his eyes. "Yes, I blew myself up." Trails off, wipes a hand over his face. "Best guess?"

He sits up slowly, wincing in pain. Wonders how he even got here. Everything is still so fuzzy and not making sense. His ears are still ringing, he can feel how puffy his eyes are from sobbing earlier. 

Earlier when he thought Nicky was here. 

Earlier when he thought he was back on the ship.

Earlier.

His soul feels stomped on, little pieces ground into dust and placed back in his hands; unable to keep the grains from slipping away through his fingers. 

"Best guess, I forgot to account for the excess oxygen I've been exhaling when I did my calculations." Sighing again, he opens his eyes, still dazed and listless. 

"Because I'm stupid." 

Because he's had so much shit to worry about and making water is needed and he was so excited and forgive him if he hasn't slept well since the whole 'abandoned on mars' thing and that he's still recovering from being skewered and exhausted and having to do everything himself. He's so goddamn tired and he's _trying,_ okay? He really is, he's doing his best, none of this is exactly easy or something he trained for. It just feels like it's not enough, anything he does is not enough, he's only still going on through stubbornness and battered hope. He's ignoring the ache in his chest, the broken, empty hole where his heart should be, ignoring the sharp glass that's trying to cut up his throat and choke him each and _every_ morning he wakes up and _no one_ _is_ _here-_

"Interesting side note: this is how Jet Propulsion Laboratory was founded." His voice is still numb and flat, his normal boisterous inflection smothered under the weight on his shoulders. "Some guys were trying to make rocket fuel in their dorm room and nearly burned down half the building. Rather than, you know, sensibly expelling them for that shit, a professor- ummm, what's his name- banished them to a nearby farm and told them to keep working out there. And thus, our space program was born." 

He goes back to resting his head on the chair, eyes closing once more. "See? I pay attention." 

All motivation has fled him. He thinks he's allowed to not do anything after being in an explosion. Totally. His planet, his rules. 'After an explosion, you don't have to do anything' is now a rule. 

He doesn't want to think about anything. 

If he thinks about what he still has to do, he'll start crying again.

If he thinks about Nicky, he'll start screaming again.

If he thinks about anything at all, he's not sure how he will get going again.

He's not going to think. That's the only option.

"I'll get back to work," he waves a hand before it flops on his chest. Ignores the singed hair on his arms, the dirt up his forearms and the burn marks on his hands. Did it truly matter? One thing at a time. "Eventually. As soon as my ears stop ringing." 

He just sits there, trying to shake off the panic and the screams from earlier, the memories and wishes cruelly playing out behind his eyelids. It's a long time before he even tries to sit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> panic attack/loss of reality: Joe wakes up after being in the explosion thinking that he is back on the spaceship and nicky is in danger, but soon realizes he's still on mars in the HAB and he was just disoriented from the explosion. He then gets v v sad and the difficulties of surviving kinda swarm and smother him. but he'll be alright. 
> 
> thank you all for reading and commenting! i read and appreciate and reply to everyone! i still don't know what my posting schedule will be, but can def say that this one took a lot of time due to new work and also trying to understand all the fucking science lmao. 
> 
> lmk what u think! u are all sublime! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAAAACK~~  
> Hi everyone!  
> I was kinda dreading this chapter bc it has 98% Not Joe in it. But then getting into it was fun and i remmebered why i love this omvie so much, esp bc all the characters are fleshed out rly nicely and it's a great time all around  
> anyways, here's what's happening back on earth! all characters are still from old guard (celeste is the woman at the pharmacy, fyi) i'm gonna tag them after this  
> I hope u all enjoy!!!

The lights are bright, so bright that he can barely see the large crowd gathered around him in front of the recently unveiled memorial in Arlington National Cemetery.

Al-Kaysani's memorial.

He tries not to think about it. But when faced with the somber crowd before him, numerous cameras, recorders, and sharp gazes, he feels inadequate. 

Lykon- he didn't know Joe well. Sure, they'd met many times, as Lykon _was_ the director of the Old Guard, and he had been with the mission and team every step of the way- but not as a personal member, more of an over watch, moving pieces and people around as he saw the bigger picture.

Knowing the crew, knowing them personally, hadn't really factored into it.

And now, standing at the podium, he feels as if maybe that decision to stay removed from them, to keep himself separate, was not a decision he should have made.

But now is not the time for that. Now, he is the director, and he has a duty. 

"Our nation," he begins, scanning the crowd, "was blessed to have Joe al-Kaysani serving our space program. His loss will be deeply felt, not only by us, but by everyone who has been watching this mission, here and around the world. And yet, the people of the Old Guard will soldier forth, onward and upward, unbroken in the mission of their agency. In doing so, they honor the legacy Joe leaves behind, and they ensure his sacrifice will not be in vain." 

He takes a deep breath as the sound of camera shutters clicking and whirring, lights flashing take over the space. He waits, knowing how the press operates, and feeling a tiny voice in the back of his head reminding him that _he_ is also press, he plays their game, he manipulates and misdirects with the best of them.

He smiles thinly, swallowing his thoughts down. "May we be amongst the stars, the darkness, and the cosmos. May we forever dream of such endless night."

* * *

When Copley strolls through the entrance to the Old Guard center in Houston, every television is running Lykon's speech. His phone is abuzz with it, people emailing and texting him, his _mother_ especially. 

His phone is still lighting up as he puts it in the bucket at the security checkpoint, and the guard on duty barely glances from the tv; _also_ playing Lykon's speech.

**_President Speaks at al-Kaysani Memorial_ **

He looks away, the same feelings swirling inside of him ever since they got the news from Commander Scythia. He's been trying to unravel them.   
  
Hasn't managed it yet. 

He pockets his phone, grabs his bag from security, and continues deeper into the building.

Every office he passes has the tv tuned in to the speech, the memorial-

It wasn't even that long of a memorial. How many times can these people watch it? Doesn't it make them sick, scared, uncomfortable? Knowing that they had a hand in this somehow, that the mission they've been working on for ages has resulted in this?

He catches a brief glimpse of a tv that has Quynh inside the ship giving her own eulogy, and he has to hurry away. 

* * *

The last thing he expected-

Well, not really. Knowing the self-deprecating streaks Lykon could create for himself.

So he did and didn't expect the tv in Lykon's office to be on, showing him shaking hands with the president. If the blankness in Lykon's eyes is anything to go by, he's been drowning in his thoughts for a while. 

"I thought you gave a lovely speech," he says, walking over and picking up the remote to turn off the tv. 

Lykon quirks a humorless smile as the tv turns off before gesturing to the papers that Copley is holding, who gives them over without hesitation.

"I need you to authorize my satellite time." He stares directly at Lykon, who only glances up and shakes his head.

"It's not going to happen, my friend." 

"We're funded for _five_ missions. I think I can get Congress to authorize a sixth." Copley presses.

"No," Lykon says, looking out the window. Copley moves to stand in front of him, not letting Lykon shut him out.

"They evac'ed after eighteen sols. There's half a mission worth of supplies up there. I can sell another mission at the fraction of the cost, easily." He takes a breath. "I just need to know what's left of our assets, and that means satellite time."

"You're not the only one who needs satellite time," Lykon says, terse but not unkindly either. "We've got the other supply run missions coming up. We should be focusing on the Schiaparelli Crater." 

He's not getting it. Copley pushes again. "I'm talking about securing us another mission. We have twelve satellites in orbit, we can surely spend a few hours-" 

"It's _not_ about the satellite time, James." Lykon finally looks over at him, face grim. 

Copley sits down, blinking in confusion. "Then what is it?" 

"We're a public domain organization. We have to be transparent about what we're doing." 

Copley just blinks again, still confused, causing Lykon to let out a big sigh and wipe his hands down his face. 

"The moment we point the satellites at the HAB- we broadcast pictures of Joe al-Kaysani's dead body to the world."

Copley rears back in shock, trying to figure out if Lykon really means what he thinks he means. "You're afraid of a _PR_ problem?" 

"Of course I'm afraid of a PR problem," Lykon says tiredly. "Another mission? Congress won't reimburse us for a single _paper clip_ if we put a dead astronaut on the cover of The Washington Post." 

Sitting back slowly, Copley thinks it over while Lykon goes back to looking out the window. Was a PR issue worth it to know what supplies remained? Especially with them having future missions to consider? Which one of them was being insensitive?

Him, for wanting to focus on the supplies left and getting another mission out of this catastrophe?

Or Lykon, who was focused only on how the catastrophe would look to the press, would reflect back on the Old Guard?

Or were they both insensitive, in different ways, unable to handle a situation that no one had explicitly planned for?

His head, and heart, hurt just from the thought. He pushed it aside.

"Okay, so what do we do?" He asked. "He's not going to decompose. He'll be there forever." 

Lykon doesn't look away from the window, voice flat. "Meteorology estimates he'll be covered in sand from normal weather activity within a year." 

"We can't wait a year for this, Lykon, we have work to do." 

"The next launch isn't even for another 5 years, we have plenty of time." 

Copley boggles at the way Lykon is talking about this. Yes, he knew full well coming into the office that Lykon would most likely be like this, stuck between all the moving pieces in his mind and disillusioned, but he had thought Lykon would at least hear him out a bit more. 

He decides on another tack, hating himself for how insensitive he will come across. "Okay, consider this. Right now, the world is on our side." He gestures to the tv. "Sympathy for al-Kaysani's family is high- the next mission could bring the body back. We won't say that's _the_ purpose of the mission, but we'll make it clear that it's a definite part of it. We frame it that way, 'kon, and we get more support in Congress. I can sell it, I swear. Just not if we wait a year." 

Silence rings throughout the office, and he's frozen, watching Lykon. He doesn't move, he won't until Lykon does or says something. 

It's many minutes before Lykon moves. He just shakes his head, not looking away from the window. 

"In a year, people won't care anymore."

* * *

Celeste likes the night shifts best. Mission control is mostly empty, only a skeleton crew running things. The lights are off, only the large screens and small computers lighting the cavernous room. Everyone always jokes how she looks the part: dark clothes, dark make-up, a sort of almost-emo almost-punk look. 

Sitting in the middle of mission control, there's nowhere else she could ever be. 

She loves it here. 

Scrolling on her computer, checking over the read outs, looking at the satellite data and locations, she loses herself in the information, focusing only on her screen and the wide open, starry space outside the building, far above her, infinitely more exciting and amazing than being on the ground. 

She's focusing so much, hunched over her desk, computer keys clicking rapidly, that she jerks back suddenly when a message request pops up on her screen.

**Check at 31.2°N 28.5°W**

She looks at the sender.

**COPLEY, James.**

Even if she wanted to ask why she was being sent coordinates to check at 1:30 in the morning, it's not her place. Especially with the request coming from so high up: Copley himself. 

"Whatever," she mutters under her breath, already entering the coordinates. Maybe it will be something cool. Those coordinates are around the HAB area, so at least it won't be just sand and rocks. She's pretty sure she knows that area. "Acidalia Planitia." 

She watches the satellite images pop up, overhead pictures of the HAB, the MAV, the solar panels, everything they brought up there. She keeps scrolling through the pictures, heart beating a bit faster as morbid curiosity fills her. 

Will she see Joe's dead body?

She pokes her head up first, glancing at the other people in the room, little islands of light in a dark sea- no one's watching what she's doing.

She keeps looking, almost a little disappointed when she can't find anything. Just pictures of the HAB, the MAV launching site, the-

_Holy Shit._

_Oh God._

_How?_

_What-_

She stares at the screen blankly, mind going too quickly for her to think straight. The HAB, the solar panels, they-

Her hand trembles as she grabs at the phone on her desk, never once looking away from the screen. She can barely hear over the sound of her heart racing.

"Security? This is Celeste in SatCon. I need the emergency contact number for Dr. Copley. Yes, him. Yes, it's an emergency. I know-"

* * *

Standing around a SatCon worker's computer, in the darkened mission control room, in the middle of the night, is not how Jay thought her day would start. Especially not with what they are telling her.

"You have _got_ to be shitting me, James." She doesn't look away from the large screen monitors at the front of the room. 

Neither does Copley, Lykon, or the SatCon worker. They all just continue to stare at the pictures of the HAB site, barely believing their eyes. 

**Sol 54**

"How sure are you?" Lykon asks sharply- they have to be absolutely sure. There has to be no doubt at all. 

Not with what they're thinking.

"Nearly 100%," Copley says, glancing at him quickly before he looks at the screen again, rubbing his chin in amazement. 

Jay just shakes her head, already trying to figure out the next one thousand steps she's going to have to get started on to just manage this. All the things that could absolutely go wrong. Blow up spectacularly in their faces. If it's true-

"Do you understand what a fucking _shitstorm_ this is going to be?" She asks, drawing up contingencies and back-up plans. She's not going back to sleep tonight. Won't be able to sleep longer than 4 hours for the next 2 weeks, _at least._

"Jay," Lykon interrupts, holding up his hand. "One thing at a time." He turns to look at Copley, who meets his gaze. "Prove it to me." 

"Okay, so," Copley takes a deep breath before he gestures for Celeste to pull up the first image on the main screen. "For starters, the solar panels have been cleaned." 

"Could've been cleaned by the wind," Lykon automatically replies, not making it easy for him. 

"Look at rover 2." 

Celeste clicks the next image, an almost identical shot of the HAB from above, except the rover is on the other side of the HAB. It's labeled as Sol 18. In the image, the rover is on the left side of the HAB, and when Celeste moves to the next image, Sol 54, the rover is suddenly on the right side of the HAB. 

"According to the logs," Copley says seriously, "Commander Scythia took it out on Sol 17. Plugged it into the HAB to recharge." He gestures to the image. "It's been moved." 

"She could have forgotten to log the move," Lykon shoots back, not giving any ground. 

Jay almost appreciates the man for that. Almost.

"Here's the clincher," Copley continues, not looking away from Lykon's stern face. "Check the MDV. It's been taken apart. There's _no way_ they'd do that without telling us." 

Lykon remains quiet, looking at the screen critically.

"Come on, 'kon, trust me on this." 

Jay has to interrupt the conversation; she doesn't want to watch them have it out. Especially not in front of the worker, who she still doesn't know the name of. Who looks for all the world like she's trying to not be noticed. "Why don't we just talk to Scythia? Let's go to CAPCOM and ask her directly right now."

Copley looks from her to Lykon, neither looking away as the moment stretched out. She has no idea what they're communicating to each other, it's too early, it's too weird and too bizarre a situation. Everything is just-

"No." Lykon says firmly, turning to look at the screen. "If al-Kaysani is really alive- we don't want the crew to know." 

"What?" She looks in askance to Copley, who says nothing, just watches her closely. "How could you not tell them?" 

"They have another _ten months_ on their trip home." At least this time, Lykon does her the courtesy of actually looking at her. "Space travel is dangerous. We need them alert and undistracted."

"They _already_ think he's dead! They're not undistracted. You saw what they looked like, especially Dr. di Genova. He didn't even seem _alert."_

 _"And,"_ Copley interrupts, "they'd be even more devastated to find out they _abandoned_ _him alive."_

"You're on board with this?" She asks him disbelievingly. 

"We have to protect the crew, you know this Jay. There's nothing they can do anyway-"

"So you want them to be _mildly_ undistracted and grieving, as opposed to _not_ undistracted and at least somewhat happy he's actually alive?"

Copley watches her, and she reflects that she did get ahead of herself there. Got a bit too defensive and loud. She just- if something like that happened to her, she'd _want_ to know, okay? She'd rather _know_ what was going on, even if it meant being a mess. She'd rather be a mess for the right reasons.

"Let them deal with the emotional trauma when they're not trapped in a spaceship." He says quietly, rubbing his face tiredly. 

She watches the worker turn to watch him, finally seeing her badge.

_Celeste_

Newly named Celeste is doing her best not to react to the conversation above her, trying to become one with the computer, but Jay can see the tension in her shoulders, see the way she's fidgeting in her seat. 

She absently wonders what it must be like, to be Celeste right now.

Lykon interrupts before she can ponder it further. "How do we handle the public?" 

She sighs, duly reminded of the million impossible things she has to do. "We have 24 hours before we're required to release the pics." 

"We'll need to release a statement with them. We don't want people working it out on their own." 

She snorts. "Ah, yes. 'Dear America. Remember that astronaut we thought we killed and had a nice funeral for? Turns out he's alive and we left him on Mars. Our bad. Sincerely, the Old Guard.'" 

Lykon glares at her, but she doesn't back down. There's no way this looks good. It can only be made to look less-worse. 

"I need to get on a plane to Chicago," he declared, finally looking away from her.

"Why? Oh-" Copley rubs his face again. "His parents." 

Lykon just nods heavily. "They should hear it from me before it breaks on the news."

"They'll be happy to hear their son's alive, at least." She tries to placate, knowing that there's no way anything will make this better. 

"He's alive," Lykon begins, glancing at the screen. "But, if my math's right, he's gonna starve to death long before we can help him." He shakes his head, looking back at her. "I'm not exactly looking forward to that conversation." 

She doesn't know what to say, fancy words and turns of phrase can do nothing here, have zero ability to make this okay. 

"Can you even imagine?" Copley asks distractedly, staring up at the big monitors. "He's fifty million miles from home. He thinks he's totally _alone,_ and that we all _gave up_ on him. What kind of effect does that have on a man's psychology?" He shakes his head numbly, muttering: "What's he even thinking about right now?"

* * *

"I'm definitely going to die up here." Joe declares, towel hanging from his neck, hair wet from a recent shower. In the background music is playing loudly and the lights are dimmed except for the screens on the walls, and a bright flashing light that lights up the room in intervals. He's leaning on the desk, bent at the waist to better look directly at the camera. "If I have to listen to anymore goddamned _awful_ Hebrew disco music." 

He sits down, continuing to almost shout over the music. 

"My god," he complains loudly. "Andy, couldn't you have packed _anything_ from this century? Do you see this?" He gestures to the room around him. "This is a fucking depressing rave, is what it is. And that's saying a lot, considering it's more depressing than being stranded on fucking mars." He jabs a finger at the camera. "I _refuse_ to sing along to this, why do you even have Hebrew disco music? _Prayer_ music no less. You couldn't have gotten Arabic at least? At least make my mother happy, commander. If you had, then I could actually, _possibly,_ enjoy this sad attempt of a rave." He shakes his head in disappointment. "I refuse to dance to this. If the only other thing I could do _wasn't_ look at potatoes grow, I never would have done this in the first place."

He shakes his head again, sitting back in his seat and tipping his head to rest on the back, eyes closed. The music continues to blare from the speakers, lights flash despondently, and the surreal scene keeps existing, Joe apathetically in the middle of it all.

He begins to hum under his breath. "...essa enai...yavo ezri..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So funny thing about Copley's coordinates. apparently in the movie the ones he actually sends are incorrect, or at least don't match the coordinates given each time after this for the HAB, so i went with the ones that were mentioned most/later  
> (also, apparently, and funny again, the coordinates don't lead to acidalia planitia, but somewhere south of it. it's all on imdb under 'goofs' for the movie, lmao)  
> anyways!  
> UPDATE (NOV 13): I TOTALLY FORGOT TO LINK YOU THE DISCO SONG HOLY SHIT! GUYS, THIS EXISTS AND YOU'LL LOVE IT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXhIG_eYVP8 
> 
> I love kudos', comments, recs, loud screaming, love letters, and promises of undying respect! lmk what u all think, shout out for hanging around while i recovered w life <3 :D  
> bye!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ppl! here's the next chapter, and this one is about the crew and their grief- esp Nicky still being mostly unresponsive. Somehow, this chapter is thru Booker's POV, which i had no plans to but rly like now. i added this chapter here because the movie doesn't focus on the crew until almost 60 scenes from now, and it's mostly w them finding out he's alive. so i wanted to add more of them. and i'll probs do another chapter between then too.  
> so, there are a few tws. like i mentioned, it's sad, so there's a lot of grief, grief that causes issues eating/sleeping- esp with Nicky not doing enough of both.   
> there is one mention of calories, in reference to nicky needing more because calories are good and give you energy. If you want to avoid that, skip the paragraph that starts with andy saying 'he's still too thin,' and u should be good! Mention of panic attacks, nightmares, etc  
> i hope u all like it!!!

"How's he doing?" Booker asks quietly as he approaches Andy and Quynh standing behind the table, each with a mug in hand and watching Nicky and Nile sitting on the floor near the window. 

"Oh, you know," Quynh replies, handing her mug to Booker who takes a sip of the coffee inside. She tilts her head slightly towards Nicky and Nile. "Not much different today. He did eat a bit, and seems to be fine with Nile reading again." 

"What book?" He queries, side-stepping her observations. He hands the mug back.

"Winnie the Pooh." Andy's voice is rough, swallowing around her frustration and sadness. The same as it's been since- well. He hasn't heard her without the notes of frustration and grief in a long time. Not that he's doing much better. Or anyone else. They're doing their best. He has no leg to stand on.

"We have that?" 

Quynh flashes him a quick smile. "Seems those books are Nile's favorite, and she had them already downloaded." She looks back at the pair sitting in front of the dark and starry window, the same place Nicky has sat awake at for the last two months. "It's nice, having something filling the silence."

 _Because Joe isn't here,_ Booker thinks painfully, knowing they were all thinking the same. No more loud laughs, jokes tossed back and forth with Nile, serenading of Nicky's eyes at any moment, humming of songs. It was too quiet now, it felt like being haunted- as if they weren't haunted by what happened enough. _Because there is only so long we can sit in silence and watch Nicky pull further and further into himself._

"And at that moment," Nile's quiet voice rings out, "who should come stumping up the hill but Pooh. 'Good afternoon, Kanga.' 'Good afternoon, Pooh.' 'Look at me jumping!' Squeaked Roo, and fell into another mouse-hole. 'Hallo, Roo, my little fellow!'"

"He's too thin, still." Andy mutters sharply, and she's not wrong. His clothes hang loose on his frame, his hair dull and skin pale. Each day seems like an uphill battle to have him eat. He doesn't refuse, but he has no interest in it either. It takes a lot of prompting to have him eat, and they've switched their meal plans around so that Nicky gets the easy to eat, high calorie food needed to keep him going.

"I know," Booker says, remembering what Nicky looked like immediately following their escape from mars. Empty eyes that couldn't focus on him, limp body that he had to support, his brother more of a shell than a man. "I couldn't see his ribs then." 

Not when he had to get them both clean, when he had to 'shower' them both, rub soap and water on them, cut through the sweat and grime. Not when he briskly cleaned his brother, who just floated next to him, let him rinse him down and wash his hair, all the while muttering under his breath between bouts of long silence. Back before, when he hadn't been consumed with grief, he was okay- healthy. 

Now, Booker wasn't so sure.

"If this goes on," Quynh interrupts, "we're going to have to put him on a drip." 

They grimace, silently watching Nile read to Nicky. Booker shifts on his feet, has to press a hand to his eyes to stop from reacting and breaking down. Again. They don't have time for that. They have Nicky and Nile to take care of, Joe's jobs to cover on the ship, and trying their best to hold everyone together. There wasn't time.

"I know," Andy mutters sourly, jaw set, not wanting to admit easily to the inevitable. 

"It's not your fault, boss." Booker looks up and places his hand on Andy's shoulder, ignoring the tension running through her. Ignores the way she barely moves or blinks, as if with one move she'll shatter and fall apart.

Andy just hums noncommittally, and Quynh scoots closer to wrap an arm around Andy's waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "He's right, 'droma, it's not your fault. You know this, we all do. He's just-" She can't find the words.

"He's just grieving," Booker picks up, leaning his head against Andy's shoulder. "Just like the rest of us." 

* * *

At lights out, or as it's known colloquially, 'forced bedtime,' he watches as Andy and Quynh gather up Nile from where she had fallen asleep, head on Nicky's thigh, and walk with her back to their quarters for their nightly discussions.

And by discussions, he means that they go and process their grief together, that Andy and Quynh are now the de facto parents watching out for young Nile, who hardly needs it, but has grabbed onto it so tightly after everything that happened. It's not a surprise. 

_After Joe died and Nicky retreated and suddenly she didn't have the same supports left when she needed them more than ever._

He nods at them as they pass, smiling when Nile darts in for a quick hug, and he kisses the top of her head fondly, his eyes closing briefly. He nods to Andy and Quynh when Nile pulls away to rejoin them and they leave.

Turning, he watches Nicky quietly across the room. In the dim light, the stars are brighter than the inside of the ship, and they outline Nicky's silhouette, making shadows play across the floor and giving him an ethereal glow. It would be beautiful, he can hear Joe's voice in his head already shouting that he needs to draw Nicky _now_ , if it wasn't such a mournful sight.

Walking softly, Booker crouches down next to him. The stars reflect in his eyes, and it seems like these moments are the ones that Booker can see Nicky is still with them. When the lights are low, the room empty, and all that exists are the stars and the darkness. When time and space seem to no longer exist for them.

Maybe Nicky's dreaming of Joe, of still being on Mars with them. Maybe he's remembering all the times that Joe had called him any celestial endearments. Maybe Booker's thinking too much into this, and Nicky is looking at the stars because they are beautiful and there is nothing else beautiful to look at anymore.

"Hey buddy," he says quietly, gently resting his hand on Nicky's shoulder. "Time to go to bed. Coming with me?" 

For some reason, only he can get Nicky to communicate the bare minimum so that they aren't just making him do things and not treating him like a child. And what that turns out to look like is Nicky tapping his fingers once for yes, and twice for no. 

_It's better than nothing,_ his brain posits, and he knows it is, it really is, but somehow he's lost _two_ brothers and only one of them is _truly gone_ and he feels like some days he's crumbling and lost too. 

Nicky taps once, and Booker pastes on a smile, shoving his thoughts aside. "Alright, let's go do that then." He stands up and helps Nicky to his feet, pointing them towards the crew quarters. 

They walk hand in hand, then float hand in hand, and walk again until they reach the door to Booker's room. 

"Want to stay with me again?" He asks quietly, and watches Nicky tap once against his thigh. "Sounds good, Nicky." 

He pulls them both in to his small room, just like every other night.

The first night after they left Mars, they had found Nicky the next morning sitting in the hall across from his and Joe's room, face covered in tear tracks and snot as he stared blankly ahead. He refused to go into their room, now that Joe wasn't there. Would never be there again.

Ever since that night, Booker has shared his room, his very tiny room, squeezing the both of them onto his small bed. He'd never considered any other option.

The biggest scare they had, was when he was woken up in the middle of the night to find himself pressed against his brother, who was screaming and thrashing in his arms, scratching at his arms and shouting incoherently. It caused everyone else to burst into his room, suddenly crowded close and loudly asking questions, and Booker had let go of Nicky in response, who immediately fell to the floor and curled in on himself, sobbing and shaking, head pressed painfully to the metal that reverberated his sobbing until it filled up the room. 

"What happened?" Andy had asked sharply, glaring at him as if it was his fault. She stepped forward but instantly back tracked at the wounded noise Nicky made. 

"I don't know, I swear. I just-" He floundered, glancing between her and Nicky. "I just woke up suddenly, and he was screaming and fighting and I didn't even realize I was holding him, I must have done that in my sleep, and then you came and he fell..." He couldn't look away from Nicky, tears springing to his own eyes as he watched his brother in agony on the floor. What had he done? 

"Fuck-" Andy breathed out forcefully, wiping a hand down her face. She seemed to age before his eyes- more than she had the last two months. 

"Boss?" Nile asked hesitantly, halfway behind Quynh watching the scene unfold hesitantly.

"They sleep like that-" Andy explained tightly, carefully choosing her words as she eyed Nicky. _"Used to._ Him and-" she cut herself off. She grimaced, taking another breath and looking at Nicky softly. "Little spoon and big spoon." 

In the silence, understanding passed over them all; Booker felt a wave of shame and grief wash over him. How had he forgotten that? How had he not realized that this might happen? How could he have been so-

"Booker. Sebastien." Quynh snapped her fingers in front of his face. "It's not your fault. None of us remembered. This isn't your fault." 

He looked up at her helplessly. "But it was me. It was my arms, my-"

"Sebastien!" She grabbed his face. "This is not your fault. Okay? Shit happens. And know we know now not to do it again. Okay? We're going to get through this. I promise you we'll get through this." 

Leaning down, she brought their foreheads together, and he took respite in the familiar comfort, in the way she could easily ground him and keep his focus in the present. 

"Okay," he breathed out shakily, pulling back and looking in her eyes. "Okay. We'll get through this." 

"Yes," Quynh answered, brushing his hair back gently. "We will." 

And since that night almost two months ago, since they had all awoken to the sound of screams of pain, to the desperate moment when waking up where you think something has gone terribly wrong, the ship must be on fire, someone must be hurt, there's an issue _somewhere_ _if they can only find it-_

Only for them to have all woken up with their hearts in their throats, realizing that someone _is_ hurt, something _has_ gone terribly wrong, and the issue is _right in front of their faces-_

And there's nothing they can do to fix it. 

Nothing at all.

There may as well be a fire, because none of them can breathe anymore, there's no more oxygen with the grief clogging their throats, thick smoke coming from the empty space in their lives and feeling as if their hearts are on fire-

They sleep head to toe now. 

Booker sleeps against the wall, and next to him, Nicky sleeps on the edge of the bed, his head by Booker's feet. No more accidental touches, nothing beyond kicking each other in the face-

It's a small price to pay for any sleep they can manage to get.

He knows that the others are doing something similar, even though it's against regulations. That Nile sometimes sleeps near Andy and Quynh, that she doesn't want to be left all alone. 

What does it matter, if it's against safety regulations to do this? To find this small source of comfort while they feel as if they are burning up in their grief? He won't be ashamed for needing this, for bargaining his few extra seconds of reaction time in case of an emergency- not for this. Not when there's already _been_ an emergency and his- _everyone's-_ few extra seconds counted for _nothing._

He gets changed, helping Nicky find his own clothes, before turning off the light and moving to the bed, crawling in first, then waiting as Nicky climbs in. 

It takes a long time for Booker to fall asleep. His eyes are shut tight to try and ward off his spiraling thoughts and the painful feeling inside of him, but it's no use. He hasn't managed to fend them off any night since they escaped mars. Has barely managed to catch the few hours of sleep he needs to function. His ability to sleep disappeared with everything else that they lost two months ago.

The room is dark, and he watches the clock as time slowly ticks by. It doesn't take long for the nighttime 'lullaby' to begin.

"...hayati- please... _Yusuf_.......Joe-...I love...please! I _can't-"_ Nicky's voice rasps, whimpers filling the space beside his begging. 

And Booker has to lay their and just listen. They found out that is was better not to wake Nicky, not when he needed any sleep he could get, any moments without panic or spacing out entirely. The bed starts moving as Nicky begins to thrash slightly, hands curling and uncurling into the blanket tightly. Booker avoids thinking any thoughts about what he's grabbing onto, _who-_

He turns to lay on his back, staring upwards, knowing he will get little sleep tonight. At least his brother will, however terrible it must be. And doesn't it break his heart to wish Nicky sleep, even that plagued by nightmares? At least then, they know he's getting some sleep. Even if he will wake up many times during the night, crying out or falling off the bed, arm outstretched painfully to grab-

And Booker will lay there, waiting for Nicky to return, with careful words and little smiles, doing his best to be strong for Nicky.

That's all any of them can do.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to brush off his whirling thoughts and the tears streaked down his face. His voice is soft when he begins his part of their nightly lullaby:

**_"I should have liked to begin this story in the fashion of fairy-tales. I should have liked to say: 'Once upon a time, there was a little prince who lived on a planet that was scarcely any bigger than himself, and who had a need of a sheep...'"_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the winnie the pooh excerpt is from the book by a. a. milne, and is the same except a few punctuation points. Same with booker's story, which is from the little prince by antoine de saint-exupery.  
> idk how they fucking showered in the show with the centrifugal-gravity, so i just went with what ppl do on the int'l space station!   
> i rly love your comments, kudos', hearts, everything! thank you all so much for reading and i reply to everything u send and it makes my week! <3 <3 i hope everyone has a good day soon :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!  
> had a lot of fun with this chapter! these are all joe scenes, and are the more humorous ones :D   
> i had a great time writing this, esp with pure briliiant dumb-ass joe.  
> Hope u enjoy! :D

"Welcome to another episode of Man versus Mars! Brought to you by Joe, me, on behalf of the Old Guard space program. This episode is dedicated to my husband Nicky- wait for me babe, here I come." 

Joe smiles tightly at the camera, gesturing to the map in front of him on the work top table. It's a topographical map of mars, covered in bumps, hills, craters, and lines denoting coordinate markers. 

"Today is sol 70, which means it's time to start thinking long term. And by long term, I mean surviving until the next mission is supposed to get here. That mission is supposed to land here," he points to a large crater at the bottom right map, "the Schiaparelli Crater, which is about 3,200 kilometers away." 

He drags his finger across the map to the other side of the map and up to the top corner. "And that's us here."

"So, that's a lot of mars." He breaths out, calculating distance and probability in his head while he glares at the map. It's a lot. It's going to be difficult, might be the most difficult thing he will have to do to survive. "Yeah." 

He shakes his head; now is not the time to be getting insecure about this. He is on mars, he is surviving, and he's going to make it off this dusty rock of a planet. He is a fucking awesome scientist-astronaut man, he can do this. 

He has to. 

"The Old Guard presupplies each mission years in advance, so the MAV is already there- just like one was here before us too- and the MAV is synthesizing fuel. In four years, when the Old Guard Primary Ship returns- my lovely ship- I'll have to launch from there." 

He looks up at the camera. "Which means I gotta get to that crater." 

_Easy-peasy, nothing hard about that at all._

He always said he wanted to see mars. The joke's on him though, because now he's going to see more of fucking mars than he ever wanted to. 

If only Nicky and the crew were here. He wouldn't mind it so much if they were here. Not just him, alone, left for dead, a lone man all on his lonesome. With only his mistress Science to keep him warm in the unforgiving coldness of space.

_Wallowing is not helping. Get it together, Joe. C'mon. You can do this._

"Let's talk this out," he says as shoots finger guns at the camera. He holds up three fingers, pointing to the first one.

"I have two rovers here, each designed to go a max distance of 35 kilometers before they need to be recharged at the HAB. That's problem A. Because I obviously can't take the HAB with me." He points to his second finger. "Problem B is that it'll take me about, eh... roughly 50 days to make the journey to the crater. So, problem B sub 1 is that I will need to just _survive_ for 50 days. Inside a rover with marginal life support. Problem B sub 2 is that I need to make the van-sized rover able to _have_ life support lasting 50 days." 

He shakes his head, smiling ruefully. He points to his last finger. "And yeah, problem C is that if I don't figure out how to make contact with Mission Headquarters in the first place, none of this matters anyway." He nods and the smile slips off his face; he looks tired beyond reason, looks a bit thinner and paler than he did at the start of the mission, at the start of his extended-staycation on mars. 

"So yes," he sat up straighter, nodding and quirking his lips- a real smile this time, "in the face of the overwhelming odds, I am left with only one option:

"I'm gonna have to science the _shit_ out of this." 

* * *

The camera is positioned outside, balanced on a tri-pod he brought with, recording Joe in front of a rover that has a sort of wagon or trailer attached to it. On the trailer, there are folded up solar panels, forming a triangle, so that many can fit on at once. There is a large metal contraption tied and held haphazardly, yet somehow secure, to the rover and wagon set-up. The sun is bright, reflecting off Joe's helmet as he faces toward the camera.

"Check it out!" He cries, gesturing widely. "Nile, my dear, look what this 'poor, loser of a botanist' can do! I'll knock your space socks off!" He chuckles and lowers his arms. "What I've done, is that I've taken the battery from rover 1, it's that funky looking metal thingy I've attached to rover 2. I know, I know, _you_ could've done it better, _Booker_ could've done it better, blah blah blah. But _this_ sexy botanist here managed to attach a spare battery, solar panels, _and_ make it all fit on the trailer. So, take that!" 

He smiles again, before he's looking back at the rover. "The battery was a lithium thionyl chloride non-rechargeable. I figured this out from some subtle clues: the shape of the connection points, the thickness of the insulation," He smirks over his shoulder, "and the fact that it had 'LiSOC12 NON-RCHRG' written on it." 

He shakes his head and places a hand over his chest. "I know, I'm a goddamn genius." 

* * *

Joe sits before the camera inside the HAB, wrapped in a blanket with his teeth chattering. His hands are clamped tightly on the blanket, pulling it around him as he huddles on his bed. It is night time, the lights are dim and Joe looks tired.

And frozen.

But mostly tired.

"Okay, so-" his teeth chattering interrupt him. "Success? I'm count-counting this as a suc-success. I've doubled my battery life by harvesting the other rover's b-batterry. BUT-"

He breaks off to sneeze loudly, wiping his nose on his blanket. He laughs softly before winking at the camera. "Aren't I sexy?" 

Another sneeze causes him to double over, and he has to recover his breath. He is grinning apologetically when he looks back up. "You know, Nicolo, my love, I would _kill_ to be back in Malta right now. Under the hot sun, in the cool sea, the warm breeze. What I wouldn't give to be laying on the sand with you." He makes a face. "W-well, maybe not _sand_ sand. But a nice towel, or chaise lounge. But," he winks at the camera, "I'm sure we'd find _other_ ways to keep warm." 

He smiles dazedly at the camera until his body gives a large shudder, and he shakes his head. 

_Stop daydreaming like this, Joe. This isn't going to help, no matter how much you want it, to be in Nicky's arms, to be able to rest safely, to be outside, warming in the sun. With Nicky._

"Fuck, sorry about that." He adjusts his blanket. "Where was I? Oh right, yeah. The rovers. Okay, so I have the batteries now. The problem is that I can't use the heater. Well, I _can,_ but I _shouldn't._ The heater eats up half of my battery power everyday." He flails a hand out, trying to force his brain to make his words and thoughts make sense. "But if I don't use the heater, I will slowly be killed by the laws of thermodynamics. DAMN YOU, ENTROPY!"

His yelling turns into coughing and more shaking, his body still trying to warm up even after so long indoors. He hates to say it, but if even a small ride like this has made him get this bad, he's not going to make the 50 day trip. At all. If he can't do the trip, he's really stuck here.

And that's not going to happen. 

Not when he has the chance to get back to his family.

Slowly, he sits up again, trying to put on a brave face. "Well, I'd like to solve this problem, but unfortunately my brain is fucking frozen. So... I'm gonna go lay down."

He pulls the blanket over his head and tips sideways, curling up into a shaking ball before piling more blankets on top of him. The lights turn off. 

The shaking doesn't stop.

* * *

_The sand and rocks look extra orange today._

Joe shakes his head in disgust. 'Look extra orange today,' really? That's all that he can come up with? He has a degree, is a fucking astronaut, is sciencing the _shit_ out of mars.

And the most he can come up with is 'look extra orange today.' For shame. If Nile were here, no, if _Andy_ was here, she would've given him such a look of derision that it would melt his space suit right off his body.

"'Look extra orange today,'" he mutters under his breath, keeping watch through the rover windscreen of where he's driving, making sure he doesn't get stuck in a ditch or tip over. Not that he couldn't get it upright or unstuck, but, there's one of him and literal tons of the rover. 

So: cautionary driving. 

"I don't think I ever drove this safely back on Earth," he declares to the camera in the top corner of the rover. "I'm _sure_ I didn't. And I can't even hit anyone here!" He gestured to the space before him, the long horizon of rocks and craters in the distance, the ever shifting sand, the empty empty _everything_ spanning in every direction. 

"Like, don't get me wrong," he says absently, focusing on driving around a dip in the sand, "Nicky is way worse than me. _Booker_ and _Andy_ are way worse than me. If anything, I am a fantastic driver. You see," he smiles without taking his eyes from the ground in front of him, "we all know who's allowed to drive. Nile is always allowed to drive, no matter what. She is responsible and passed her driving test way more recently than the rest of us. Not that she's young, obviously, but she's definitely the baby of the crew. She- GET OUT OF THE WAY ROCK- is just very responsible about driving. Next is Quynh." He smiles at the camera quickly.

"Quynh knows what the fuck she's doing, and is allowed to drive if Nile doesn't want to. _Then_ comes me. And _I_ am only allowed to drive if both Nile _and_ Quynh aren't driving. So yeah, Nile again wins that against me, but don't tell her I said that." He chuckles, slowly driving around a large rock in his way. 

"Then comes Booker, he's only allowed to drive if someone on the driving list above him- THAT IS A HOLE AND I AM NOT FALLING IN IT, FUCK YOU MARS- is sitting shotgun and calling out stoplights and stop signs. Same with Andy, but it has to be Quynh in shotgun, because Andy will not listen to _anyone_ else. And finally," he quickly blows a kiss to the camera before his hands are back on the steering wheel and he is watching intently again, "is my lovely husband, my moon, my soul, my light. My everything. Nicky is _never_ allowed to drive. Sorry babe, you know the rules. He drives like the world is ending, like driving laws don't exist, and, if we ever went to Italy, I'm 99% sure they wouldn't let him drive either." 

He laughs again, and it lights his entire face up, makes him look younger and less stressed, makes it look like he maybe has had a rough month but it's now over and done with it all, and he just needs to focus on recovering. Makes him look human.

Almost makes him feel human.

"Driving aside," he continues, "I have some good news! I've figured out how to solve my heating problem. Bad news: it involves me digging up the Radioisotope Thermoelectric Generator, the RTG, or, as you guessed from our previous nicknames of important technology, _the Danger Baby._ That one was mostly me and Quynh though, and did _not_ involve alcohol, thank you very much." He laughs again.

"Now, if I remember my training correctly, one of the lessons was titled 'Don't Dig Up The Big Box of Plutonium, Joe. Don't Do It.'" He slows down and parks the rover, sighing and leaning back in his seat, glancing at the camera. His smile is mischievious, his eyes sparkling as he basks in the absurdity that has become his life. "So I, like the amazing scientist I am, am going to do the exact opposite of that. Now, I get it. The danger baby is good for spacecraft, but if they rupture around humans, such as a Joe, it means no more Joes. Joe is all gone- Joe'd out- Joe'gone- No Joe mojo- Anyways. That's why we buried it way out here when we arrived. _And_ planted that flag over there, which you can't see, but it has a sick looking skull and crossbones on it, very scary, so that we would never be stupid enough to accidentally go near it again." 

He pauses, eyes flicking from the flag to the camera and back. 

"But. As long as I don't break it and assassiJoe- you're right, it's just not working today is not my day. Gonna have to come back to this. As long as I don't break the baby, well, not 'everything will be fine.' Can't believe I almost said that. No, the point is I gotta be careful, that's all. Just like driving over here. No biggie. Just a fragile human digging up the danger baby that Old Guard _very_ insistently told us to _never_ go back to. What could go wrong?"

* * *

"Apparently, nothing!" 

Joe is smiling widely, bumping up and down as he drives the rover back towards the HAB. His hair is plastered to his head, face shiny with sweat, but it does nothing to dull the sheer happiness surrounding him. 

"I'm not cold anymore! And it's all thanks to the danger baby." He jabs a thumb behind him to where a large metal cylinder of sorts is wrapped in an emergency blanket held down with fabric ropes sits innocuously against a wall. "And yes, I _could_ choose to think about the fact that I'm only warm because I have a decaying radioactive isotope riding just behind me, but right now I have bigger problems on my hands."

He hits a button on the console, and disco music pours out of the speakers loudly as Joe grimaces in pain.

"THIS IS THE _LEAST_ DISCO SONG ANDY OWNS." 

He keeps driving, just as intent on the landscape, but now stone-faced in the storm of the disco music beating through his entire body, unignorable and unavoidable, and yet it is better than the all encompassing silence that will surround him, that reminds constantly that he is truly _all alone_ on this planet, there's no one else out there, nobody here to save him.

Anything is better than the silence.

Even disco.

The music gets louder. He scowls and his knuckles whiten where he grips the steering wheel as the first lines ring out:

**_At first, I was afraid, I was petrified_ **   
**_Kept thinking, I could never live without you by my side_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what u all think! it's getting to the point where the book, movie script, and actually movie are starting to diverge and be really different from each other, so I'm having to structure things around a lot more and actually plan out what scenes are included and go where :D  
> as always, i appreciate anything u guys are comfortable giving/leaving, even if it's just a single emoji <3  
> still unsure when this will end, but I know that the ending will be longer than either the book's or the movie's!  
> :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ppl!  
> we get new characters this chapter!!!   
> I have re-arranged a lot of scenes for this update, but unless you are closely following the movie or script along, you will not notice and actually most likely unconsciously appreciate it :D   
> there are a few things explained in the end notes because there are a few assumptions going into these scenes, but it is nothing you need to know before hand, and more is an explanation if you missed something or got confused <3

Copley ignores the white lights shining brightly at him, the hard plastic chair he's sitting on, the large screen with satellite imagery to his side, Jay standing nervously behind the cameras, and focuses solely on the reporter in front of him.

Just like Jay said, 24 hours after they found out Joe was alive, they had to go public. They had to get their statements and evidence all perfect and written exactly how Jay wanted the press to read, how she wanted people everywhere to feel when they read it.

Copley is trying not to let the crushing thoughts of having _left Joe on **Mars**_ eat away at him, but the flurried panic that encompasses all of the Old Guard is unavoidable, making everyone anxious and on edge. 

"So, Mr. Copley," the reporter from CNN interrupts, and Copley tunes back into to focusing on his polite smile, "Where is al-Kaysani going?" 

He knows all these answers. Anything they ask he can answer.

Jay made sure of that with her hours of 'prep,' i.e. interrogation.

"We believe he's preparing for a journey. He's conducting incremental tests- taking the Rover 2 out for longer and longer trips each time, seeing how far he can get on the power he has." 

"To what end? Why would he leave the relative safety of the HAB?"

Sometimes he forgets that not everyone thinks in survival-based frameworks, especially those not working in the field of space and with astronauts. 

"Communication," he explains patiently. He turns and gestures to the satellite picture on the large screen. "We believe he plans to travel to the future Old Guard mission site in order to make contact with us." He takes a deep breath. "But it is a dangerous gamble." 

The reporter leans forward, a hungry look in his eyes, "He'd be risking his life to talk to you?" 

They _really_ don't understand that everything is life or death up in space.

"Yes," he nods solemnly, "here's the problem that Joe faces. See, he's all alone. And he needs to make contact with us to survive. _However,_ if we could talk to him, we'd tell him to _stay_ where he is. Joe needs to trust that we are doing _everything_ in our power to bring him back alive.

"But that's a very hard thing to believe when trapped all alone up there." 

* * *

Jay is immediately at his side as he walks out of the interview, heels tapping angrily as they move down the hall.

"Don't say 'Bring him home alive.' It reminds the world he might die." She warns.

He sighs tiredly. "You think people might forget that?" 

She glares at him. "You asked how you did and I'm giving you my answer." She pauses. "My answer is 'eh.' And yes, I'm going to make _everyone_ forget there's a strong likelihood Joe al-Kaysani is going to die because _that's_ what you pay me for and _unfortunately_ I need this job because I'm currently paying alimony on two deadbeat ex-wives because some how 'marriage rights' has bitten me square in the ass." 

Copley snorts at her chutzpah. He is very glad she was on their side, because if she wasn't- well, he doesn't like to think about that. "Hard to believe tha-"

 _"I_ was the one who left _them."  
_

Ignoring her glare, he snorts again, spirits lifting the tinniest amount knowing that she has the drive and power to make the press believe anything.

Even that Joe is going to come home alive no matter what.

They reach the conference room easily, and he holds the door for her before walking in himself. Already inside is Lykon; the employee who found Joe, Celeste; a tough looking man who seems more body guard than department head; and a polished and prim looking woman who is displayed on the large monitor.

He eyes them all as he sits down at the conference table. 

Lykon catches his eye immediately. "For fuck's sake, James, don't say 'Bring him home alive.'"

"Yeah yeah," he is beyond tired already. This isn't exactly what he had imagined his job would be when he signed up to be the mission director of the program. _Jay_ was the PR person, not him. He had _actual_ things to be doing to get Joe home, not trying to talk half-truths around the press. "You know, these interviews aren't actually easy. God forbid I try to say something proactive and positive." 

He waits as Lykon watches him. Lykon doesn't look away: "Jay-"

"Got it," she says quickly, already writing a note down, "no more Copley on television. Copy that." 

He sighs in relief, sitting back in his chair. Now he could _actually_ get some work done to get Joe home. Before he can even enjoy his break, Celeste starts passing around a stack of briefs to everyone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" 

Lykon glares at him before turning his attention to the brief. Skimming it over, there's nothing that Copley doesn't know there, given that he and Celeste have been keeping in contact on every Joe-related thing. He watches the rest of the people, especially the two he doesn't recognize, read it over closely. 

Lykon is the first to finish. "Seventy-six kilometers. Am I reading this right?" 

Everyone looks around to see who he's asking.

"Are you asking me?" Celeste leans forward to look at him. 

"I am," he says, not looking up from the brief. If it phases Celeste to be addressed like so, she doesn't show it.

She's got the attitude needed for working here. Unflappable, composed, and unyielding.

"Yes, sir. Joe drove straight away from the HAB for almost two hours, did a short EVA, then drove for another two. We think the EVA was to change the batteries." 

The man who Copley thinks must have been a body guard in another life looks up at Celeste, a sneer already on his face. "Are we doing a daddy/daughter thing today? Where's the director of SatCon?" 

What the fuck. Copley jumps in: "Celeste is the person who figured out the Joe was alive in the _first place._ She's in charge of tracking him now." 

Lykon still doesn't look up from his brief, just waves a hand lazily. "Quit being an ass, Keane. Where's Joe going? Is this another test?" 

It takes a minute for them to realize he's talking to Celeste again. 

"We're not sure, sir. He's seventy-six kilometers away from the HAB. If it's a test and it doesn't work- he's dead." 

That finally gets Lykon to look up. "He didn't load up the oxygenator or the water reclaimer?" 

Copley admires her for not backing down.

"I didn't see that happen, no sir." 

"You didn't _see_ it?" 

She squares her shoulders. "Every forty-one hours, we have a seventeen minute gap. It's just the way the orbits work. So- it's _possible_ we missed something." 

"I want that gap down to _four_ minutes. I'm giving you total authority over satellite trajectories and orbital adjustments. Make it happen." He goes back to his brief. 

Floundering for the first time, Celeste nods a few times. "Yes... okay, yes, sir." She sits back down, and Copley catches her eye and gives her a small smile. Grinning back, she shakes her head in disbelief. 

He doesn't think any of them have truly come to terms with all that has happened in the last 24 hours. 

And she's not even a director or project-leader.

Unflappable. 

Always quick to the point and never one to waste time, Lykon is already speaking. "Let's assume that Celeste _didn't_ miss something, so Joe _isn't_ going to the future mission site. Yet. But, he's smart enough to figure that it's his only chance in the long-term." He turns to the large screen mounted on the wall. "Meta, what's the earliest we could get a presupply there?" 

The prim woman grimaces and absently tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. The name niggles in Copley's brain, and it takes him a few seconds to place it- she's the director over at the jet propulsion laboratory, the JPL. 

"With the positions of Earth and Mars," she begins, "it'll take nine months. And, it will take us six months to build it in the first place."

"You get three months." Lykon doesn't let her respond to his demand, just steamrolls ahead. "You're gonna say it's impossible, then I will give a speech about the 'blinding capabilities' of the JPL team. And then you'll do the math in your head and say something like 'The overtime alone will be a nightmare.'"

They all watch Meta think, her expression morphing from irritation to disbelief. " _Fuck,_ the overtime's going to be a nightmare." 

Smiling thinly, Lykon nods. Somehow, he always manages to push the people and variables into place just how he likes them. Somehow, he does it without even pissing too many people off.

It's why he's the director.

"Get started," he orders Meta, "I'll find you the money." 

Keane sits forward and looks directly at Lykon, with the kind of certainty only a man who is truly in the right can have. "It's time to tell the crew." 

Everyone freezes, and even Copley holds his breath, making eye contact with Jay. By her widened eyes, it doesn't seem like even _she_ knew this was being considered. Glaring, Lykon wipes a hand down his face tiredly.

"Keane, we talked about this." 

" _You_ discussed this. But _I'm_ the flight director, which means I'm the one who decides what's best for the crew. Not you." He sets his jaw. "They deserve to know." 

"I'm sorry, Keane. I'm with James. They need to focus on getting home." 

Wait a minute. Copley was not completely devoted to this issue, and Lykon knows it. Arguing with him and Celeste at 2am yesterday (today?) does not equal a final decision. He is not above the flight director at all, nope, he knows them best, Copley will follow whatever he says. But Lykon has dragged him into this as some sort of foundation to his argument. Celeste is looking between them all, and Copley can no longer tell what her thoughts on the matter are- angry that the crew isn't being told, following trustfully in her higher-ups footsteps?

He laughs at the last idea. Celeste would never follow anyone anywhere. He tunes back into Lykon and Keane's argument.

"Bullshit, Lykon. And you know it." Keane spits angrily.

Eyes narrowed, Lykon tries to calm down. "Once we have a _real_ rescue plan, we'll tell them. Otherwise it's moot. Meta has three months to get the payload done- that's all that matters right now." 

Meta chimes in before Keane can gear up for another argument. "We'll do our best." 

Lykon turns to look at her as his words ring with finality: "Joe dies if you don't."

* * *

They're back in the SatCon hub, again at some ungodly hour of the night. 

The sun doesn't set in space, and it sure as hell doesn't set at the Old Guard headquarters. If he was less dedicated to his work, Copley might be more irritated at staying here all hours and catching a few hours rest on his office couch. 

He's idly sipping some lukewarm coffee, sitting on a desk next to Celeste's station, eyes wandering across the dark stations, the silhouettes of other workers, the many feeds pulled up on the large, wall-sized monitor. 

_Do the SatCon workers have bunkers or something nearby to sleep in? Do they also not leave?_

"Hey."

Celeste shakes him out of his thoughts and he hops down to look over her shoulder at her screen.

"He's on the move again," she says, pointing at a blurry dot on the surface image of mars. 

"Where the hell is he going?" Setting his coffee down absently, he peers forward. "He hasn't changed course in thirteen days. And he's nowhere _near_ course for the future site-"

"Unless he's not taking a direct route." She tilts her head in consideration. "Maybe he's trying to avoid some obstacle-"

"What obstacle?!" He doesn't _get it._ Where the fuck is Joe going? Why would he be heading in a totally incorrect direction? He has already tested how far the rover can go, doing the tests safely; what the fuck is he up to? He shakes his head angrily. He's not _getting it._ "What obstacle?! It's Acidalia Planitia. It's all just fucking rocks and dust. There's nothing _out there_ but-"

Holy shit.  
  
Holy shit.

He _knows._

He knows where Joe is going.

Celeste looks up at him in question, wondering why he froze. Not meeting her eyes, Copley is dazedly looking at the big screen.

"I need a map." 

"What?" She asks, confused by the abrupt change in discussion.

"I need a map." He says with a large smile. "I need a map!" He yells, already running away from her station to the doors. Before she can think she's sprinting after him, following the sounds of his wild laughter and pounding feet. 

She catches up with him when he slams into the break room, catching the door as he runs to the back wall. A single employee is watching him, agape, as he runs up to the picture poster on the wall.

She catches up as he rips the poster down.

"Hey, c'mon man-" The employee calls, unknowing of who he's talking to.

Copley pays him no mind, already scouring the map. Celeste looks at the poor guy.

"He'll buy you a new one." 

The man doesn't look happy, but he turns back to his notes. 

"Quick!" Copley's fingers trace hurriedly over the map. "What's the HAB's location?" 

"31.2 degrees north, 28.5 degrees west," she replies automatically, watching as Copley quickly finds the coordinate markings and draws his fingers together to a specific point. He rummages in his pocket without looking for a sharpie and circles the point. He then circles the point that Joe is at right now. 

He looks around wildly. "I need a ruler..." he spins around before giving a short 'aha!' as he sees the employee holding a notebook. Before Celeste can stop him, he darts over and rips it out of the employee's hands and races back.

"He'll buy you a new one," Celeste calls absently, watching Copley quickly use the notebook spine as a straightedge to connect the two dots. Studying what Copley's done, they both look down at the poster hastily scrawled with sharpie. 

"I know where he's going." 

When she turns to look, he's grinning widely. She barely glances at the poster before he's running out of the room again.

"Fuck Copley!" She yells, but he's already gone. His voice echoes down the hall.

_"I need to get on an airplane!"_

She's left in stunned silence.   
  
The employee looks over at her. "Who the fuck is he talking to?" 

Shaking her head, she picks up and tosses the notebook back to him before picking up the poster. "I'm honestly not sure."

* * *

Meta is waiting in the lobby of the JPL, spine straight and hair smoothed down so it doesn't look like she's been up all night pulling at it while working equations over and over again. 

But if the time of the call last night, sometime around 1am her time, is any indication, she thinks Copley won't have slept either.

Not that it makes her feel better. More like a shared sense of commiserating camaraderie. 

When Copley walks through the front door she quirks her lips- if anything, he looks worse than her. His suit is rumpled like he hasn't changed out of yesterday's clothes and he has deep circles under his eyes. At least she was able to change into one of her spare outfits. 

"Copley," she sticks out her hand.

He smiles and shakes. "Meta." 

She grins for real this time, seeing the same maniacal glint in his eyes. "Shall we?"

He smiles back. "We shall." 

They leave the building power walking in the early sun, passing by the deer on the campus without stopping or noticing. She loves it, loves the way she feels powerful, like she can do _anything,_ if she just gets the math right, if everything is _perfectly_ in place. 

At the Old Guard, anything is possible. That's why she's here. That's why Copley's here _now._

"Meta, what are the odds Joe can get it working again?"

Straight to business. 

She loves it. "Hard to say. We lost contact back in '97. We think it was battery failure." She shoots a glance at him. "Though, I'd like to point out that it lasted three times longer than expected in any scenario." 

He huffs a laugh, beginning to breathe harder as they keep hurrying. "Nobody's criticizing JPL's work, Meta. In fact, I get the feeling after this, everyone will be _praising_ it. I really just want to talk to everyone who was here in '97." 

Grinning at her preparedness and foresight, she is all too happy to reply: "They're already waiting for you." 

Entering the garage, which is actually closer to a huge hangar, they finally slow down at the sight of a large crowd milling around, with a large _something_ hidden under a simple sheet. Copley steps forward, unconsciously reaching a hand out.

"This the replica?" Wonder suffuses his voice. He doesn't look away.

Meta nods, grabbing the sheet before she dramatically pulls it off, revealing the machine below.

Copley breathes out, stunned. _"Pathfinder."_

Smiling at his awe, Meta walks over to him and begins doing one of her favorite things: talking about science. "The American spacecraft launched in 1996. It's in two notable sections-" she points to the larger part of the machine, the base section with 3 large solar panels, "that's the Lander. On top of it," she points to what is essentially a small rover in the middle of the solar panels, "is the Sojourner Rover." 

Copley is still standing nearby at a loss for words, a look of disbelief and hope on his face as he gazes at the large machine sitting utterly unremarkable before him. "Just like the one on mars." 

Meta nods. "Just like the one on mars." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "chutzpah" is a Yiddish word that means similar to modern slang 'balls.' so like, copley is thinking 'damn, meta has the fucking balls to fight anyone for what she wants'  
> EVA is an acronym meaning ExtraVehicular Activity. it means doing anything outside of the ship/HAB/livable area.
> 
> for jay's comment abt her ex-wives, the script has it as her ex-husbands and comments instead abt gender inequality. i decided to keep it in because it shows part of her character/reason for working her job. also because i obvs want her to be a lesbian, and also to show that just bc you're in a queer relationship, doesn't mean it's inherently healthier or safer
> 
> keane and meta are here! keane is not gonna be evil, will be closer to the og character, but less drunk and more gruff/short-tempered (but not to harm/hurt anyone). meta is going to be a v excitable, sleep-deprived scientist, and will keep some of her arrogance/drive for power that she has in tog.
> 
> Pathfinder! if u don't know why this is important, i will tell you here. it is not a spoiler rly, bc it is explained in literally the next scene in the movie. however, since i will be adding some more scenes between that point, i'm going to explain why here (feel free to skip!). Pathfinder was sent to mars awhile back, and got stuck out there unfortunately. since it was a robot, it had to be able to talk back to NASA to show what they found. joe, and what copley figures out, is going to use pathfinder to communicate back to earth. so they needed to get essentially a copy of pathfinder on earth to recieve his messages!
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed it1!! i got rly rly excited writing this scene, especially bc i love the break-through/aha's! of copley's as the pieces click into place! 
> 
> i love all kudos', comments, curses, anything! let me know what u think, reactions, anything! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a sad crew grief chapter, so be warned! hopefully has a more hopeful ending <3  
> (there is a small blurb about a marriage, so if u want to skip that section you can just skip over the italicized part that begins with joe slamming into a room. (not the first one tho, that's not it)
> 
> i hope u all enjoy. it took a bit more effort to write this chapter, and i'm not too sure why. idk. who knows lol

He takes turns reading now, with Nile. It took awhile, he is ashamed to say, but progress is progress, no matter how small.

That's what Booker and everyone else would insist.

He knows he worries them, really worried them in the last few months. It's not that he wanted to, but that everything seemed too much, too empty, too quiet, too cold.

Without Joe. 

Nothing was worth doing without him. If Nicky hadn't been with his family, them taking care of him and loving him even as they were dealing with their own grief, he isn't sure that he'd have made it through. 

Without Joe.

Nile reads to him, tells him stories from books and from her life before them. Quynh gets him moving, any way she can. They go to the exercise room, float down the hallways holding hands or doing somersaults, go to the kitchen, their rooms. Change the scenery. Booker takes care of him, as simple and deep as that. Booker opened himself up for Nicky, gave him anything and asked for nothing in return- and Nicky is beyond gratitude, will spend the rest of his life doing the same for Booker. He is trying to do that now, tidying their room, helping Booker, slowly taking care of himself without Booker, anything. Andy is there too, and she sits by him for hours. Saying nothing, but that is the most comforting part. He would lean on her shoulder, her arm around him, and sort through all of his thoughts. She's a mind reader, he is sure, because every time he is thinking something self-deprecating or hurtful she flicks his forehead with a stern look.

He is doing his best, trying hard to recover. Trying to get back to normal.

Without Joe.

He is trying, but it isn't always easy. Somedays he slides back to where he was in the beginning, huddled in front of the window, unresponsive to the world, trapped in his thoughts. 

He wonders if life will always be like this from now on, that sharp pain in his chest never going away, still biting into him but becoming normal, routine. 

He wakes up, he feels the pain, he works on his projects, swallows against the pain, spends time with his family, rub his chest in pain, and goes to bed, hoping the pain stops while craving this only connection back to Joe.

* * *

"Hey." 

Andy looks up from her tablet and turns in her seat to see Quynh at the door to her room. Her hair has fly-away strands, and Andy wants nothing more than to tuck them behind Quynh's ear and press soft kisses down her neck, hold her close, and just breathe her in.

Her wants must show on her face because Quynh laughs and smiles at her. 

"Later, Andy. We've got something else to do first." 

Puzzled but trusting, Andy stands up and follows Quynh. 

She'd follow her anywhere. 

Before she can even ask, Quynh knows her so well, Quynh is explaining where they're going.

"Nicky wants to read for us, so we're all gathering in the main room, snacks and blankets and all that jazz."

Nicky? Her eyebrows furrow, this is unexpected. Nicky has been getting better the last few weeks, thank the stars because they were all sure that if he didn't, keeping him alive might become a forced event, _making_ Nicky stay alive, however they could, without his permission.

She shudders. None of them had wanted that.

He is eating more, reading with Nile, starting to take care of himself, communicating with everyone (not just Booker). 

She is proud of him.

They are all grieving, they are all trying to be strong, and the days frequently feel unbearable. They are worse for Nicky.

Without Joe. 

Everything is dull, rooms feel too large without him, remarks and jokes made that have no reply and leave pained silence to remind them of all they lost. 

"Nile says nNicky is reading to process his grief, and he wants to share that with us today." 

Andy glances at Quynh, who just quirks her lips sadly. 

"I know," Quynh says, propelling herself down the hall. "It can't be worse than what we're dealing with right now. We're all in pain, and if this helps, how could we say no to him?" 

She's right. Andy knows. 

Everything just hurts _so much._

Without Joe.

Everyday, it feels as if someone has carved out a piece of her, like she has a gaping hole somewhere that will never be filled, will never heal over. They've lost part of their family, there will always be an extra space, an empty chair, the absence of loud laughter, no shoulder bumps or hugs; everything is different now.

Without Joe. 

But right now is for Nicky. She will support him and everyone else. She's captain, and that doesn't inherently transfer to their family, but still everyone looks to her to keep them together. To be the glue that holds them together, the anchor in the storm, the rock in the lake, the warm hearth beckoning them to their home.

"Quynh," she reaches out, grabbing onto her pant leg just before they get to the hatch for the main room. 

Quynh turns around immediately, floating back to look her in the face, eyes searching for what's going on. She rests her hand on Andy's cheek. "Yes, my heart?"

Not looking away, Andy covers her hand. Quynh is her rock, her gravity, she pulls her back to safety and grounds her. She loves her more than anything. "Quynh, we're going to make it through this." 

It's not a statement, instead a plea for reassurance. 

_Please, Quynh, my soul, tell me we will get through this. Tell me it will all be okay and you'll be by my side the entire time. Tell me our love for each other and for our family is strong enough to weather this, is bright enough to get us through. Tell me and I will believe you, I will make it come true._

Quynh presses their foreheads together, her other hand coming up to cradle Andy's face. When she speaks, Andy can feel her breath on her lips:

"Andromache Scythia, we will make it through this. We are strong enough- _you_ are strong enough. I know it doesn't feel like it, I know everything is awful right now, I feel it every time I take a breath. Just trust me when I tell you that we will all make it home. We are resilient and we will get through this. If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be telling you this." She pulls back just enough to make eye contact with Andy, wipes the tears from Andy's cheeks. "I love you with all I am, Andromache." She gently kisses Andy, taking in the warmth of her lips, the way she exhales in relief and pushes closer to Quynh, loves the feeling of rightness that comes with kissing Andy. Loves how Andy tries to follow her as she pulls back, and Quynh waits for Andy to open her eyes. It takes a few moments; the emotions and grief is tucked away, Andy's eyes sharp and face neutral. 

Quynh kisses her forehead. Their moment has ended, and she is glad to have had it; they both needed it, the reassurance, the love, the understanding. 

Needed to remind each other that they were here, together, no matter what happens. 

Trying to lighten the mood, Quynh pulls back with a smile. "Now, are you going to be the stoic woman I married, or will I have to hope Nile accepts my proposal instead?" 

Like she hoped, it gets Andy to grin slightly, pushing Quynh in mock outrage back towards the hatch. "She wouldn't touch your old ass with a ten foot pole."

"Hey! You _love_ this old ass!" Quynh shoots back, smiling at their antics.

Andy gazes appreciatively at her. "I sure do; gotta appreciate fine art when you see it." 

Snorting, Quynh turns back to the hatch. "Such a charmer, Scythia." 

Andy floats behind her and presses against her back. "Only for you, my heart." 

* * *

When they get to the main room, Nile and Booker are already there, sitting on the floor in front of Nicky, who is smiling slightly as they bickered between themselves. 

Andy rolls her eyes as they approach, catching Nicky's eyes who just shrugs at her.

 _Stars, he's really coming along._ She thinks, going to sit on the floor with everyone else. 

"Hey boss!" 

"You just know I'm right!" Nile exclaims, interrupting Booker's attempt at getting Andy's attention from behind her. Nile turns around and skips over Andy entirely to address Quynh.

"Quynh! my favorite adopted parent, the loveliest person I know-"

"Yes, darling suck-up child of mine?" Quynh replies with a wicked grin. Booker laughs loudly from behind Nile. 

"Rude!" Nile cries before quickly picking up the conversation again. "In your honest and scientific opinion, wouldn't you agree that both rose _and_ jack could've fit on the door?" 

"-I'm not saying they can't!" Booker interrupts, "I'm just saying that, mathematically, had the density of the door been different and the weight of them both, they both would've survived!" 

"Well..." Quynh pretends to think about it, "I think both-"

She cuts off when Andy elbows her and pointedly clears her throat, nodding towards Nicky. They all turn as one to see him gripping his tablet close to his chest.

"Sorry Nicky," Nile says, Booker and Quynh chiming in. Everyone settles back down and gives Nicky their attention.

Nicky looks over to Andy who nods. 

He takes a deep breath. "I have some things I want to read." His voice cracks. "It's- they won't be..." he trails off.

Booker reaches out and rests a hand on his knee. "It's okay, whatever it is you want to share, Nicolo. We're here."

Smiling tremulously, Nicky nods once more. He pats Booker's hand before Booker sits back and Nicky clears his throat and begins to read:

“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”

_Joe barged into her room in their small apartment they shared with Quynh, door slamming against the wall and making her glare at him past her textbooks._

_"Quynh better be on fire or missing her arm," she growled._

_"Andy, my bestest friend ever," Joe singsonged, falling gracelessly onto her bed. "It's worse, it's so much worse."_

_She sighed loudly, and knew that she wouldn't get any studying done until she had listened to whatever Joe had to say. "And what, is worse than my girlfriend on fire?"_

_He turned to look at her with hopelessness. "I, the inimitable, sexy Joe al-Kaysani, have been captured by an angel, a man more beautiful than the moon, his gravity pulls me and will never let me go."_

_"Fucking tell me already," Andy sighed, knowing Joe would see past her cranky words to the fondness below. He sat up and looked at her._

_"I have met the most beautiful man, Andy, and I know that this is it for me. He's the one."_

_She eyed him critically. "Did you actually meet him, or just watch him creepily from afar?"_

_"How dare you! I'll have you know, we actually had a **lovely** conversation. His name is Nicolo, and he's Italian and shy and charming." _

_She grinned before pretending to glare at Joe again. "If I promise to meet him, will you let me go back to studying?"_

_Joe beamed and darted in to hug her fiercely. "You'll love him, I promise."_

Nicky has tears running down his face, Quynh is squeezing her hand so hard she feel her bones moving, and it is completely silent except for Nicky's choked up reading.

“The way sadness works is one of the strange riddles of the world. If you are stricken with a great sadness, you may feel as if you have been set aflame, not only because of the enormous pain, but also because your sadness may spread over your life, like smoke from an enormous fire. You might find it difficult to see anything but your own sadness, the way smoke can cover a landscape so that all anyone can see is black. You may find that if someone pours water all over you, you are damp and distracted, but not cured of your sadness, the way a fire department can douse a fire but never recover what has been burnt down.”

_The man who came along with Nicky approached her and Quynh, she thought his name was Booker, leaving Joe and Nicky to fawn over each other and kiss and hold hands on the couch of their apartment. She and Quynh were already laughing and gossiping about the two, and she wasn't surprised that he gave up his awkward isolation to come and talk with them._

_"You must be Booker." Quynh smiled and handed him a glass of lemonade._

_He nodded and accepted the glass. "And you must be Quynh and Andy. I've heard a lot about you both." He took a sip before tilting his head with a small grin. "Though not as much as I have about Joe."_

_They laughed, glancing back at the pair who were now staring intently into each others' eyes, not even talking._

_"Yes, and us too." Quynh said, leaning against Andy. "So, how did you meet Nicky?"_

_Andy watched as Booker smiled for real this time, it lit up his eyes and made the weariness that he carried lessen just a bit, enough that she could see the love he had for Nicky._

_"He found me." Booker couldn't look away from Nicky wrapped in Joe's arms. His shoulders slumped but the love in his eyes didn't lessen. "I was- well, I was at a low point in my life. And, one day, I was- I woke up on his couch, this person I had never met. And he told me he had found me passed out on the street, and he brought me in to be safe. Who does that? Just takes in a stranger like that? I could've been dangerous. Or something. Anyways. It was- well. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in a long time. He lent me some clothes, fed me, and gave me his number in case I ever needed help." He took a large gulp of his lemonade. "I didn't contact him for a year after that, I wanted to- I wanted to fix myself up first, didn't want to be some project for him to fix, wanted to be what he saw in me, when he had taken me in and helped me-" He shook his head, finally turning back to her and Quynh, a small wistful smile on his face. "We've been family ever since."_

Nicky is wiping the tears off his tablet. Booker is sobbing quietly, hugging a crying Nile against his chest, Quynh is crying silently next to her, tears running down her face as she watches Nicky unravel before them, as they watch him try and process the tremendous grief and sadness inside him, watch him break under the weight into small pieces and try and pick himself up and place the pieces back as well as he can. Andy feels her lip trembling, feels her throat clogged, feels her eyes burn with unshed tears. How did they get here? How has she let this happen? How do they come back from this unbearable loss? This break in their family?

“If you have ever lost a loved one, then you know exactly how it feels. And if you have not, then you cannot possibly imagine it.”

_Joe barged into his dressing room, door slamming as he took in Andy dressed in a sharp suit draped casually on a chair as if waiting for him._

_"Andy! Help, I'm panicking!" He began pacing nervously around the small room set aside for this exact reason, for last minute preparation and calming reassurances._

_Marriage, she's glad neither her nor Quynh were such messes prior to their ceremony. At least she knew how to handle an anxious Joe, after all these years. Booker had taken Nicky duty, and Quynh had gleefully taken charge of the ceremony._

_Andy raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "What the fuck are you panicking about? You're marrying Nicky, the love of your life. You've already embarrassed yourself in front of him many times."_

_"This is different," Joe insisted, tugging on his curls as he paced past her. "We're getting **married.** "_

_"And here I thought we were just having a fancy dress party." She deadpanned, not backing down when Joe spun around to glare at her._

_She sighed and walked up to him, fingers going to his hair to arrange it in a semblance of order. "Joe, you have known me since we were kids. So I am **the** expert in you. You're just going to have to believe me when I tell you that everything will be fine." She moved to straightening his tie and jacket. Joe was silent as she finished fussing and then looked up at him, a small smile on her face. " **Yusuf,** that man loves you more than space itself, the entire crowd could be naked and wearing hot pink body paint and that man would never notice them- he will be looking at you and be so out of his mind with love- **nothing** could make him love you any less. **I promise.** " She gently pulled him down and kissed his forehead. "Now get out there and fucking marry the absolute love of your life, or I will make you regret it for the rest of your miserable fucking life." _

_Joe's eyes were misty as he pulled back to press a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'll hold you to that."_

Nile is laying down with her head on Nicky's thigh, tears still running down her face. Booker has moved so he is sat behind Nicky, thighs around his legs and arms around his middle, pressing soft kisses to his neck. Quynh had pulled her down with her when she went to lay her head on Nicky's other leg, her arms circling around Andy's waist tightly. Andy feels safe, even with everyone still crying, even with Nicky's trembling voice reading soul-wrenching words, words that feel as if they are being torn from the broken pieces of his heart.

“Grief, a type of sadness that most often occurs when you have lost someone you love, is a sneaky thing, because it can disappear for a long time, and then pop back up when you least expect it.”

_They were to meet their new crew member, the person who would become part of their team to reach mars. Andy only hoped that they wouldn't be an asshole, and that they didn't hate any of them on sight. Sure, everyone else was hoping this would mean another person to add to their ragtag family- but Andy was being realistic. There were tons of assholes who wanted to go to mars who would do **anything** to get on the team, and she wasn't going to let some fucker come in and mess with her family._

_"Babe," Quynh murmured from her side, barely moving her lips as they all stood at attention facing the door their new crew member was going to arrive from. "Stop glaring so much."_

_She flicked her eyes to Quynh before staring back ahead. "I will when they earn it."_

_"Jeez boss," Joe hissed from her right side, barely moving his lips. "You're gonna set whatever kid they stick us with on fire with that death glare."_

_She clenched her jaw. "If they're worth their salt they'll be just fine."_

_"Andy-"_

_Nicky cut him off. "You will be the children, bickering back and forth, yes?"_

_Quynh and Booker snorted. Andy and Joe were cut off from replying by the door opening._

_Their new team member._

_Keane walked in first, his usual scowl just as sharp as ever. Andy glared back- one day she was going to get him to break. She was not above this game of chicken she played with him- she **was** going to get him to crack. And when she did, she'd get gloating rights for the rest of her life. _

_Keane raised and eyebrow and glared right back. He gestured at the door, and a small woman walked in the room, her head held high as she took everything in. Her hair was in tight cornrows, her flightsuit was clean if a bit wrinkled, and her boots the standard given to astronauts at Old Guard. What was most surprising was the way she met everyone's eye, finally landing to meet Andy's sharp gaze without a flinch._

_Andy quirked a small smile, lips barely moving._

_She was going to be good._

_"Listen up!" Keane snapped. "This here is Nile Freeman. She is to be your new crew member. You **will** make her part of your team, and she **will** be respectful and integrate in. Do I make myself clear?" _

_"Yes, sir!" They saluted him, who gave one last glare at all of them before turning on his heel and leaving._

_They weren't even a military organization- Keane was just **like** that. Andy had given up trying to figure him out a long time ago. He was fair and he did what a handler was supposed to do, and that was all that mattered.  
_

_Andy turned from watching Keane leave to see everyone already crowded around Nile, Joe and Nicky at the front. Nile already looked overwhelmed._

_Good._

_Let's see how she did faced with so many strong personalities._

_"Nice to meet you, Nile!" Joe exclaimed, offering his hand out. Nicky was smiling over his shoulder. "My name is Joe, and this here is my amazing husband Nicky. Over there, that sad man there, yes you see him? That's Booker, don't ask what his name is, he lost the right to proper name when he lost a bet to me-"_

_"Quit telling people that shit!"_

_"-Sometimes I can still hear his bitching," Joe said wistfully, dramatically pretending to swoon. He-" Quynh elbowed his stomach forcefully, but to his credit he barely let it phase him and the introductions. He smiled at Nile, who was slowly looking less like a frightened rabbit. " **Anyways,** this here is Quynh- Shit! I forgot to introduce roles too, goddammit I knew I was missing something!" He exaggeratedly slapped his forehead, causing Nile to properly smile at his theatrics. _

_"I'm sure I'll learn them soon," she reassured._

_"Smart thinking, I like you." Joe replied, snapping at her before continuing on. "This here is Quynh, Andy's wife, and over there, yes the one glaring who looks like a fucking badass, that's Andy, we call her Boss most of the time though. Makes us feel so much more cooler than we are. And that's our group! Just a handful of small, humble astronauts at your service."_

_Booker snorted. "You've never been humble or small in your life."_

_"That's what she said!" Quynh tossed back, smirking and high-fiving Joe, Nicky shaking his head exasperatedly and Nile smiling again._

_Andy shook her head and raised her voice. "C'mon everyone! We still have training and it's going to be longer and harder with a new member. Nile, feel free to tell them to leave you alone whenever. Joe and Nicky; No, you can't adopt her, I'm sure she has a lovely family-"_

_"We promise to feed and walk her!" Joe yelled back with a shit-eating grin._

_"If she didn't know how to do that shit before she came here they wouldn't have made her an astronaut- if anything, **she'll** be the one walking and feeding you two. Booker, you're doing fine, keep it up." _

_He toasted an invisible glass at her._

_"And Quynh, you have to check if people are okay hearing sexual jokes and Nile is new and we haven't asked her."_

_Quynh nodded, and Nicky pat her arm in reassurance. People forget things, it's normal._

_"C'mon everyone. Let's show Nile what we can do."_

Andy barely has time to shake off the memory and swipe at her tears before Nicky is reading his next passage, voice ringing out in the inescapable silence engulfing them.

“There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don’t know and even the people you don’t want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face.”

_Andy wasn't nervous. Nope. This is what she has been training for her entire life. This is what **they** have been training for, these last few years. Why was she more nervous the night before the launch than any other time? Why not two days before? Why not when she was accepted into the program?_

_Anxiety was bullshit. She didn't need it._

_She just wanted to sit in Quynh's lap and drink non-alcoholic champagne with her family while watching shitty movies at 4pm in the afternoon so they could all go to sleep early and be up on time for the launch._

_She was going to enjoy tonight. She just had to move from lurking in the doorway._

_Any time now._

_"Hey Boss."_

_She leant her head back against Joe's chest, letting out a sigh._

_"Yeah," Joe murmured, one hand coming up to run through her hair lightly. "I know. Pre-flight jitters, happens to all of us."_

_"Not me." She grumbled, causing him to chuckle._

_"Of course not. Not our badass Andy. Mars ought to be afraid of **her,** I tell you. Just you wait, the stars will cower before her. The sun will always shine, and space will cradle her softly in arms made of the constellations." _

_Andy snorted. "I'm not Nicky, you can't distract me with pretty words."_

_"Everyone can be distracted with words," he promised, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, "you just have to find the right ones."_

_Without opening her eyes, she raised an eyebrow, humoring Joe. He just chuckled again._

_"For you, dear Andy, may I share the words you need to hear?"_

_His voice made it a gentle question, one she could say yes or no to with no feelings hurt, with the topic being dropped. If she said the word, Joe would listen, and they would happily stand in the doorway for the rest of the night or go and join everyone in front of the TV- there were no wrong choices._

_She swallowed and picked her head up, Joe easily moving her to face him head on._

_"Yes, you may." She whispered, unable to look away from his dark eyes and soft smile._

_His voice was tender. "Andromache, there is no one we would want more to lead us to mars. You are strong and brave, even when you do not feel it. You watch over us and know just what we need- you are family. Nothing you could ever do or feel will make us lose confidence in you. Nothing. If things happen on the mission, I will rest easy knowing that none of it will be your fault, that you will have done everything you could and more. We are stronger because of you, and you are stronger because of us. Leaders do not exist in vacuums, people do not blindly follow leaders- leaders prove themselves over and over and over again that they are **worth** following, and we choose to follow them at each and every point. Andy- you are capable beyond your dreams, bravery than you think, and stronger than could ever be expressed. We will make it through this. We have your back, just like you have ours. There's no one I trust more than you to lead the mission- you will do everything in your power to keep us safe. Mars will tremble in fear and hurry to obey you, stars will shine brighter just for seeing you, and space will welcome their child with loving arms. Andromache, believe in yourself, everyone else already does."_

When she looks up from Quynh's arms, Nicky's eyes are closed, face tipped upwards. Tears stream down his face, and he looks like a work of art- beautiful, haunting, sacred. He looks like he has given everything inside himself away, has offered up his heart willingly and trusts all that is to happen next. He looks like a fallen angel in the flesh, like the greatest pain and grief are made tangible through him.

She gently reaches out, wrapping a hand around his wrist. It takes time for him to look down at her, his eyes unfocused and brimming with tears even now. 

"My Nicolo," she breathes, pulling him down to the floor slowly, so that they lay face to face. Her heart breaks at how small he seems, curled before her. She wipes the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs and leaves her hands there, cradling him. Oh so small, small and fragile in her arms, one moment away from shattering. "My sweet Nicolo." 

His breath catches and she pulls him close, tucking his head to her chest, closing her eyes and burying her face in his hair. Everything feels so different and just the same. Nicky smells the same, but his grip is no longer strong around her. His heart beats in the same rhythm, but he shakes with silent sobs. He's the same Nicky, but simultaneously a different Nicky.

Without Joe.

She'd do anything to make Nicky feel safe again. 

All she can do is hold him tight, wrap him up in her and their family, and be there for him. Quynh pushes herself against her back, and she can see Nile and Booker cuddle up against Nicky's back, holding him safe while they all try and weather the storm of their grief and pain. That's all they can do.

Without Joe. 

They have each others' backs, just like always. And they will make it through this, will bear the pain for the rest of their lives and know that they have support, that they will keep getting up every morning even if it hurts. They will hold each other close, now and always, all too aware of the person missing from their group, of the large, empty space they can never fill, and they will slowly learn to live again. 

She will make sure of it; she will be strong, her family will be strong. Just as Joe taught them.

_...a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, all quotes are by Lemony Snicket. In order of appearance, they are from: Horseradish, The Bad Beginning, The Bad Beginning, The Carnivorous Carnival, & The End. (i had aimed for more beatrice letters but if u've read them u know they are wordy/inane at times and i couldn't rly fit large quotes in in ways that worked)
> 
> please let me know what u guys think of it! i tried to do new perspectives and some time switches (switching btw past and present tense blows jfc) and all that! i rly love hearing ur thoughts and all that jazz <3 :D one more chapter before joe finally makes contact with Earth!!! (i'm losing my shit!!!) :D :D :D :D 
> 
> ily all! <3 :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay!!  
> so, shorter chapter (i think? idk) bc this is joe right before making contact! there rly was nothing in the script abt this section, so most of it is made up but keeps with his progress and hopefully his thoughts at the time. does get a bit sad at parts, but in the normal 'i'm stuck on mars' kinda way.   
> i'm already plotting out the contact chapter bc i'm so excited for it and it's so amazing and i'm Hooked now.  
> There are more book quotes in here, i wonder if u can find them! :D

Joe adjusts the camera before pulling back, smiling and gesturing proudly to the HAB interior around him. The plastic tarps and soil are cover every surface, and sprouting from the soil are many small shoots of green leaves. Barely higher than a few inches, but the pop of green compared to the dark soil and the white interior of the HAB is unmistakable. Rows after rows of soil are lined with potatoes ready to be picked, and from the way Joe is smiling and showing off, he knows it. 

And he's proud of himself.

"Welcome back to Joe's Kitchen! It's sol 79 today, which means it has been 48 sols since I planted the potatoes. Now it's time to reap and re-sow- that means re-plant to get more potatoes, if you didn't know." He grabs the camera and squats down, placing the camera close to a potato plant in front of him. There's moisture on the leaves, making it glisten in the HAB lights. He gently moves one the leaves to show the main shoot disappearing into the soil below.

"They grew even better than I expected; I know have 400 healthy potato plants here." He points down the numerous rows. "The smaller ones, you can see they aren't as tall or as big, which means the potatoes under them are smaller, like that one over there; I'll re-seed them, so I'll cut them into pieces and replant them, just like I did at the beginning. The larger ones are my food supply- all natural, all organic, Martian-grown potatoes. Coming to _your_ local store for $299.99 in 3 years!"

He laughs at his joke, chuckling as he carefully backs away from the potato rows. Sitting down and leaning against the work table, he turns the camera around- no longer smiling, his face is weary and his eyes tired.

His earlier humor is gone.

He looks at the camera for awhile, brown eyes searching for something. 

He doesn't find it.

He looks away. "Of course," he tries to say lightly, voice cracking, "by the way, none of this matters at all, if- if I don't figure out how to make contact with Earth." 

Losing focus, he stares at the rows upon rows of potatoes. Such an accomplishment, _growing potatoes_ on mars, being able to farm food on an entirely different planet. It's astounding. 

And yet. 

It's all pointless if he can't reach Earth to let them know he's alive. He has to do that no matter what. Even if he goes to the next launch site, there's no guarantee everything will be there or even work. 

Nicky-

He looks sharply back at the camera, shoving all his thoughts aside. He tries to grin but can tell it does nothing to erase the despondency on his face. 

"I've made it this far. No point giving up now, al-Kaysani." 

* * *

"Okay," Joe says, driving the rover across the martian landscape, eyes bright as he smiles widely. The sun is shining down, lighting up the orange sand and the rocks, that he carefully drives around.

"So there I was, pulling a Booker and being sad and depressed," he winks at the camera, "sorry buddy, you know how it is. Anyways, I was thinking about communication again. I can't communicate from the HAB, thanks to good old Mr. Stabby having had an _intimate_ encounter with my insides," he wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, "and I'm not going to be at the launch site for awhile, and I really want to have communication before I run that gauntlet. So I was staring at the map, hoping for two brain cells to rub together for an idea when it suddenly hit me! I'm going to- GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY SURPRISE-ROCK!" 

He swerves quickly, items sliding across the floor before he swerves back to normal. Darting a quick worried look behind him at the danger baby, he sighs in relief when he sees it hasn't moved. He shoots an apologetic grin at the camera.

"Sorry, where was I? Oh right, my brilliant plan. So, history lesson: way back when, we sent a robot to mars to see what it was like- manned missions were just future fantasies at that point- and this robot was called _Pathfinder_. _Pathfinder_ landed in Chryse Planitia, which, if you can believe it, is close to where we are. Now, _Pathfinder_ is actually made of two robots, the lander platform and the robot rover. The robot rover was called _Sojourner_ , because of course it was, and the renamed the platform to be the Carl Sagan Memorial Station." He waves a hand absently, not too impressed. "It was a big deal at the time. However, what _I_ remember most is when _Sojourner_ sent a picture of mars back to earth, and we all collectively lost our shit. In that picture, there were tons of rocks, because mars, so we decided to _name_ the rocks and the craters and hills in the picture that we could see. My favorite rock was _Barnacle Bill."_

He laughs and keeps driving. "Just don't tell anyone. Only Nicky knows, and that's because I asked him what his favorite _Pathfinder_ rock was and he had no idea what the fuck I was talking about. _However,_ I'm 90% sure that Andy has a favorite one, I can just tell. She has that look."

He snaps his fingers before looking at the camera in surprise. "Right! I was talking about what I'm doing. So, _Pathfinder_ landed here, it was amazing, and though they thought _Pathfinder_ would last only a month, it lasted three months before we lost contact. We don't know why, but it's most likely due to the battery or other power-related issue. Now, the genius-level thought I had was that we _know_ where _Pathfinder_ is, roughly. And, since I was such a young and passionate nerd, I know that rock photo like the back of my hand, which means that I know the position of Twin Peaks, Big Crater, and Roadrunner Flats. I know, I know, they aren't the most creative names, but that's whatever. The important parts is that I'm on my way to find _Pathfinder_ right now, which is sol 109. Hopefully, I can figure out what happened and get it working again, and I'll use _that_ to communicate back to earth. Pretty cool, right?" 

Glancing to the camera and away, he sees a shine of something reflecting the sun in the distance, something that isn't natural to mars' environment. Something that isn't the usual dirt, rocks, and craters that fill the horizon. 

"Gotcha."

* * *

"Look at this baby!" 

Joe gestures to the _Pathfinder_ robot next to him, the solar panels are opened flatly, the _Sojourner_ robot sitting in the middle, and the camera is aimed to an area in front of the HAB that has been cleared of major debris and rocks, and has three posts with signs on them. To the other side, there are parts and pieces that came from _Pathfinder_ , piles of wires and metal neatly out of the way.

"May I introduce you to _Pathfinder 2.0?_ It's up and running now." He pretends to wipe sweat from his brow, dragging his hand across his space suit helmet. He's super proud again. He's got this sciencing shit down. He's King of Mars. Unstoppable in the face of any challenge. King Yusuf, the Scientist.

"I had to mess around a bit- I was right, it _was_ a power issue: the battery was fried. I replaced it with an environment heater, but that meant that I had to make room for the heater to fit, and then I had to re-wire everything to make it even _work,_ and I don't want to bore you with all of the tech-babble and amazing skills of mine, so skipping to the end- it took longer than I wanted to get it functioning. But, as we know, I am too awesome not to succeed, and everything worked out just fine!" 

He brings the camera with him as he walks around Pathfinder, camera wobbling due to his gloves not being designed for such fine motor control actions. His entire suit is not really designed for him to be _Man vs. Wild_ out here. But, better to have clumsy hands than no hands at all because you were stupid enough to try and go gloveless on mars.  
  
(He's only considered it, like, four times. Tops. Maybe five.)

He stops next to the posts holding signs, turning the camera back around to face him, a wide smile on his face. "So, you're probably wondering about the signs. Let me tell you, first off, I didn't _choose_ to duct tape tupperware lids to metal rods for some pathetic signs. So jot that down, Nile. I would never be so tasteless. Please. _Tupperware."_ He scoffs in mock outrage, eyes crinkling when he can't hold off his laughter any longer. Laughing loudly, he holds his hands out as if to say _let me explain._

"What I _had_ done was try and use our laptops. Each of us had their own laptops, so that meant I had six of them." He pauses. "I now have five. Unfortunately." He pauses again. "I was thinking a laptop would be just fine outside, it's just electronics, right? It'll keep warm enough to operate in the short term, and it doesn't need air or anything. It'll be fine, and then I can type whatever I want. Easy-peasy." 

He sighs. "It died. Instantly. All of a sudden. The screen went black before I was even out of the airlock." 

He snorts at himself. What a hilarious fuck up. "Turns out, the 'L' in 'LCD' stands for 'Liquid.' Who would've known? I guess it either froze immediately or boiled off. I really don't know. What I _do_ know, is what I should do: I should write a consumer review, you know? 'Brought product to the surface of mars. It stopped working. 0/10.' Could you imagine people just sending me products here to test, and getting a Mars Stamp of Approval? I'd be rich, and maybe they'd send help."

He goes silent, trailing off. All around him is the same old dirt and rocks, the same landscape that goes as far as the eye can see, the same bright sun and sky that are barely recognizable to him.

He feels so alone.

Even with the possibility that he can reach earth right in front of him, even with the sheer miracle of finding _Pathfinder_ and doing his best to get it up and running-

He understands why Tom Hanks made his friend _Wilson_ in _Cast Away._

If nothing else, at least he has cameras to talk to, can pretend that maybe somewhere somehow someone is watching him and knows he's here. 

If he thinks about it, he already has a _Wilson._ If he counts Mr. Stabby. Seeing as he has a name and he's made a sex joke about him, yeah...

He shakes his head and tries to remember where he was. Oh yes. He turns to the signs behind him, gesturing helplessly.

"I had to go to plan B. Tupperware and duct tape, mankind's best inventions." 

He points threateningly at the camera. "Whatever you're about to say Nile, _don't._ I'd like to see _you_ do better out here. You probably wouldn't have even thought about _Pathfinder_ , or found it, oh my young child. You've no leg to stand on here."

He takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the ache in his chest at the mention of Nile. He misses his family so much it hurts each and every day he wakes up. Knowing they think he's dead- that _Nicky_ _, his Nicky_ thinks he's dead- if he thinks about it for too long, he ends up sobbing on his bed in the HAB, pillow pressed over his head like maybe he can just pretend that he's back in their bed back home, that Nicky will come behind and softly wrap his arms around his waist, gently pull the pillow and kiss his cheek, their bedroom lit by the fading sunlight. If he just tries hard enough, he can hear everyone still in the HAB with him, joking and talking and when he opens his eyes everything will be safe again.

It never is.

The only thing that works is to push his feelings aside so that he can focus on surviving here, so that he fights to make it back home to everyone. Nothing else matters. He'll have time to cry and rage when he gets home.

Coming back to the present, he's still pointing at the signs as the camera keeps filming.

"Yes. Yes, the signs I made. Let me explain, for those of you playing at home." His voice didn't crack, he swears, why would it? Everything here is great, he's proud of this, isn't it obvious? "The big sign in the middle says 'Can you read me? Point (will write more).' That's my question, is earth getting my message? And also to let them know I'll be writing more if it works- but that was a given really. Then _Sojourner_ will take a picture of the sign, just like it did of the rocks, and will send it back to Old Guard. And just like in the '90s, the people will control _Sojourner's_ camera to move and point to the answer: 'yes' or 'no,' which have their own signs. That's the first step."  
  
He looks at the rocks around him, at the sun shining down, at the pure emptiness surrounding him. "So all I need to do is turn _Pathfinder_ on and wait to see if the camera moves. Simple."

He bites his lip nervously, trying not to think about everything that could go wrong. Or not even what has to go _wrong,_ but everything that has to go _right_ to even make contact. _Sojourner_ has to take and transmit the pictures. They have to reach earth and somehow be read- whatever high-tech set up they have won't work that good with '90s era tech. Someone has to _see_ his picture. Someone has to figure out how to move _Sojourner's_ camera. There's so many places where it could go wrong.

He needs this to work. This has got to work. It _will_ work.

Even if they hear him, that doesn't mean he'll be rescued. He knows that's not how this works.

But even if he can't get off mars-

At least he'll be able to say goodbye to everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls lmk what u think!!!1 i super appreciate it so much and love when u help me write something or get over a block!  
> i'm not feeling super great abt this chapter, so i rly hope u like it (probs bc i'm also just wanting to get to the next chapter, so i didn't flush this one out as much?)!
> 
> all info abt Pathfinder that Joe talks abt I got from wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mars_Pathfinder
> 
> (if u r waiting for the Every Sinner (flirty!Nicky) fic, that might be a bit of a wait bc i'm rly into this story/section rn (probs also bc then i don't have to try and write plot-plot and make it make sense) so know i know and am thinking of u all but the big reveal is now for this story!)
> 
> <3 <3 <3 <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone!  
> ok, super tired so i'm gonna try and be quick  
> ummm, conotact has arrived!! super excited. next chapter will be joe's POV of contact too, so bonus extra contact :D   
> all ppl who have commented 2 days ago (god time is an illusion) i will def reply to i just ended up finishing this hapter before i was able to get back to them but i love them so much and super apprectiate them and read them all <3 <3
> 
> they're a lot of end notes bc cool links and notes ig lol

**PATHFINDER LOG: SOL 0 BOOT SEQUENCE INITIATED TIME 00:00:00**

**OKAY, LOGAIN: OKAY, METEOROLOGY: NONFUNCTIONAL, SOLAR A: NONFUNCTIONAL, SOLAR B: NONFUNCTIONAL, SOLAR C: NONFUNCTIONAL, HARDWARE CHECK COMPLETE**

**THEN:**

**BROADCASTING STATUS**

**LISTENING FOR TELEMETRY SIGNAL...**

**LISTENING FOR TELEMETRY SIGNAL...**

**LISTENING FOR TELEMETRY SIGNAL...**

**THEN:**

**SIGNAL ACQUIRED.**

* * *

Copley is not nervous, nope, he's just, in _anticipation_. Ever since he figured out what Joe was doing, they've been watching his trips to and his work on _Pathfinder,_ praying that he gets it to work. 

If anyone can do it, it's Joe.

It's amazing what he's done already.

To say Copley is impressed is such an understatement that it rankles. If anything, Joe has become closer to a personal hero of his- to have survived on Mars, to not give up hope in the face of such uncertainty and helplessness, to keep trying and trying- 

If it was him, Copley doesn't think he'd make it this far. 

All alone, without the resources to live long enough to maybe get back alive, and without the assurance that anyone knows he's alive?

He doesn't have that kind of drive, that internal confidence that he is strong enough to make it through anything thrown at him.

But, that's not helpful to think about right now.

No, standing in the cool hangar bay, their _Pathfinder_ replica sits in the middle on plastic tarps. There are many cluttered desks, more wires than floor, and all sizes of monitors scattered around. He doesn't know how many people are needed to operate everything in here, but apparently it's so many that there are three or four people per table, and double that holding up the walls and sitting on the ground, papers and tablets in everyone's hands. It doesn't look calm, but that's to be expected when all of them are on the edges of their seats waiting to see if this works.

Waiting for a miracle.

Waiting to see if Joe makes contact. 

He and Meta are intently looking over the main technician's shoulder to his blank monitor, waiting waiting waiting for something to happen.

Something impossible. 

He can barely breath, he's so anxious and impatient. 

If Joe makes contact, it will mean they can start looking for ways to get him home. If you makes contact, he can tell them what happened, how he is alive, what he's been doing to survive, what his plans are.

If Joe makes contact, maybe Lykon will let them tell the crew. 

Tell Joe's husband.

Oh god, _Nicky._

Everyone knows how bad he's been on the journey home. The crew hasn't hid it, hasn't hid how Nicky is almost catatonic- he's been getting better though. 

Thank goodness.

And yet-

If they tell him, tell the crew, will he just spiral back? Will all of them? Will the guilt eat away at them, the despair of leaving a man behind, leaving a brother, a _husband,_ will everyone come home more traumatized than when they left?

He will be; Copley knows he will be pretty fucked up after this. 

He'd bet that everyone will.

Meta places a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile and it grounds him, makes him take a deep breath as Meta does the same, trying to settle their nerves. 

These aren't thoughts for now. 

Right now, it's time for hope.

They quickly turn when they hear the technician gasp, and on screen, somehow, he doesn't know how, there's a line of bold text shining innocently:

**LISTENING FOR TELEMETRY SIGNAL...**

**LISTENING FOR TELEMETRY SIGNAL...**

**LISTENING FOR TELEMETRY SIGNAL...**

**THEN:**

**SIGNAL ACQUIRED.**

"Holy shit," Copley breathes, and the room breaks into raucous laughter, screams, and loud applause. 

He did it. 

Joe did it.

_**Contact.** _

* * *

"As soon as I received the high-gain response," says the technician, "I directed _Pathfinder_ to take a panoramic image."

The applause and good cheer has died down. There's work to do now, and everyone seems to have a job and responsibilities. At this point, Copley is just trying to stay out of the way. He doesn't have a job, and is pretty sure he's just here to look at the pictures and hopefully talk to Joe. 

He can't believe it. _Talking_ with Joe. 

Who's been on mars for _months_ without any human interaction.

But first, they have to reply. Or point, really. 

And wait.

They have to wait now. 

Because it takes _time_ to talk with the _Pathfinder_ on mars, to get a picture sent back to them.

He hates it. 

He is trying to be calm with the technician, who can't control the time it takes to reach mars, but god is it hard.

The technician's attitude doesn't really help.

"Have you received it yet?" Meta asks impatiently, doing a better job then him of hiding her emotions.

The technician answers sarcastically: "Yes, but I thought we would all rather look at this black screen here instead of a vibrant read planet, obviously." 

"For _fuck's_ sake," Copley doesn't need this, "this isn't some goddamn game, there are _lives_ on the line! I should-"

Meta interrupts his rant smoothly, ignoring his glare. "This is our finest comm tech," she says diplomatically, "and we all appreciate his acerbic wit." 

She turns and glares at the technician, silently mouthing: _'I will fire your ass'_ before turning back to Copley with a small smile. 

The technician rolls his eyes but stays quiet, looking back at the computer.

**IMAGE RECEIVED**

"Incoming." 

Copley scrambles out of his seat, he and Meta resume their positions looming over the technician to see the screen. 

It's a black screen, and as they watch, a column of red and orange appears to one side.

The panoramic picture is starting to appear, one vertical stripe at a time, slowly revealing an image of mars. Copley's eyes are glued to the screen and the tedious reveal, unable to look away.

"Martian surface... more surface... rock..." he mutters under his breath.

"The HAB-" Meta points to a section on the screen, clearly visible as the airlock into the HAB. 

He can't believe it. 

Something is visible at the edge of one stripe, something that doesn't look like it should be there, and they have to wait for the next image stripe to load-

"What's that?" 

The stripe loads, and he sees it. 

It's a sign, it's a surface taped to a rod, directly in front of the camera, with words clearly written.

**Can you read me? Point. (will write more)**

There are smaller signs next to it, and he almost laughs in disbelief.

**Yes**

**No**

"I don't believe it," he breathes out shakily, laughter bubbling up inside him. He turns to Meta and sees her almost smiling. "I don't believe it, Meta." 

Her eyes are wide in amazement. 

"He did it. He really did it." 

Copley can't contain himself any longer, he smiles widely and rushes to Meta, his happiness can't be held in, and he picks her up in his arms and swings her around. As they laugh, it feels as if things are finally looking up, like maybe they can get Joe back home, like maybe everything turns out alright, like maybe everyone lives to the end of the mission. 

Meta slaps his shoulder and he gently puts her down. Her hair is askew and her cheeks red, and he thinks this is the most emotion he's ever seen in her.

They're not friends, he couldn't explain why he picked her up and spun them around, giggling like children- but if he had to say, there's something about working beside someone for all hours, seeing each other at their worst and at their most brilliant, fighting together for a goal, for a _life,_ that makes it feel as if he's closer to her than anyone else he knows. 

He's never felt so alive.

"I hate to interrupt," says the technician sardonically, "but here's the bad news. It's a 32 minute round trip communication time. He can only ask yes/no questions, and all we can do is point the camera. You don't have to be a genius to understand that conversation is gonna be pretty stilted and one directional; he'll probably run out of- I think those are tupperware lids?- he'll probably run out of tupperware lids before we even get to the important stuff." 

Meta turns and glares at him. "If you have no brilliant ideas for communication, I suggest you do your job and point the damn camera right now."

"...roger that, pointing the camera now." 

* * *

**IMAGE RECEIVED**

**My Moon, space is dull without you**

* * *

It's for Nicky. They all know it.

They can't ignore it, the love, the need. The heartache, the desperation.

How can they? When Joe's first message back is for his husband? How can they, when it's the first message a man trapped on mars, who doesn't know if he will come back alive, sends?

The tears burn; anguish and frustration. 

To keep a man apart from his love, a love that is brighter than all the stars in the sky, than the very moon itself. 

They'll never be clean of this transgression.

How can they?

* * *

The good news is, they don't need to come up with a brilliant idea for communication.

Joe already did. 

It means that suddenly everyone is running around the hangar, people with arms full of tools, cardboard, metal posts, measuring tape, chalk, more wires and monitors. Every person is suddenly swarming around the _Pathfinder_ replica, measuring distances and placements and are setting up sign posts just like Joe's but in different places, forming almost a complete 360 circle of signs around it. 

Copley needs Meta to explain it. He thinks he understands, but with only three hours of sleep last night he just wants to be triple sure they know how to communicate back and forth, that _he_ does, because that's why he's here with Meta, to learn what Joe has done and is doing, to see if there's even a _chance_ he'll be able to survive until the next mission or even another month.

His shoulders ache with the responsibility and burden of such an important objective.

Make contact with Joe.

Figure out what happened.

Figure out roughly how long he has left.

Figure out how to sleep at night knowing that Joe's life is slowly ticking away, that he's stranded and that there might not be a way to save him.

Figure out how to tell his husband and family that Joe's alive but they can't save him, that his life is measured, that he's a dead man walking. 

That they're all going to have to grieve twice. That they'll never forgive themselves or Old Guard for letting this happen. For leaving him, for finding him, for being unable to save him.

Copley doesn't think he'll ever be able to forgive himself. 

"We know we can't have yes/no questions to communicate," Meta explains calmly, "especially when we have to talk about complex astrophysical engineering and physics and all we have to use is a grainy camera from a 1996 rover. However, here's what Joe figured out. The camera can turn 360 degrees to take a panoramic, which means we can point to any sign he puts up around _Pathfinder."_

Copley nods, shoving his thoughts away to focus on the here and now. Focus on what they can do right now to communicate with Joe. 

"But, we can't use the alphabet- 26 letters plus question card into 360 degrees gives us 13 degrees of arc. Which is too narrow- he wouldn't be able to tell what we're pointing at. So the answer, as Joe discovered, is hexadecimals." 

Hexadecimals? Wasn't that something to do with computers? He thinks so, but that's more of Meta's and Celeste's field. He rubs his eyes tiredly, trying to focus more. 

"The hexadecimal system is commonly used in programming and computers."

Nice to know he was still capable of some higher level brain functions.

"There are 16 symbols: 0 to 9, and A to F. What this means is that he only needs 16 signs, which means arcs of 22.5 degrees. Much more room, and he'll be able to tell where we are pointing. So, essentially, we're talking in code to each other. He's writing his messages, which we take a photo of and read back here on earth. Then we reply by moving _Sojourner's_ camera and pointing to the signs in hexadecimal code, which he translates back into letters and symbols. Technically, there's 255 characters in the ASCII table, but we won't need to use all of them, we don't need all of the symbols." 

"Okay." Copley says, nodding. "Sending messages by using hexadecimal codes so that we don't have to use more than 16 signs. Got it."

Meta takes in the sight of him, eyes tired, beard growing out, and an aura of astonished happiness and exhausted duty. She probably doesn't look any better than him, considering how long they've both been up and all the excitement that has happened the past few hours, but then again, she's had two more coffees than he has. 

"The most difficult part will unfortunately be on his end. He writes a message easily and then posts it outside. It takes us 32 minutes to get the picture of it. We then have make our response in hexadecimal, and use the _Pathfinder_ replica here to move the camera, which moves Joe's camera, to point to all of the signs that make up our message. So it's a one hour wait for a response at all, if we take a picture the minute he posts it, added onto the time it takes us to come up with a message and begin moving the camera. Then, he has to watch the camera point for however long our message takes, during which he really has to pay attention, and record that. _Then,_ he has to go inside and decode it all. It's a long turn around time and he has to be aware and ready to go the entire time while waiting for us to respond."

"Jesus Christ." Copley breathes out. He runs a hand through his hair. "Okay. Coded messages with over an hour between them, with everyone needing to be aware and prepared the entire time. Okay."

Meta smiles in sympathy. "And that's not even touching the hardest part of the mission: getting him home."

His breath catches as that statement hits home.

It's not, it really isn't. This isn't the tough part yet. It's _tough,_ definitely, especially for Joe, but it's not _the_ tough part. 

They're not prepared for that. 

Getting Joe home alive is the top priority, but fuck, they don't have any idea how to do that.

"Copley? James?" 

"Huh?" He looks up at Meta. She's concerned, hand held out as if to touch his shoulder. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" 

She draws her hand back. "I asked if you were alright." 

"Oh." He looks around the hangar and sees that the hoard of workers has dispersed back into small groups of people scattered throughout the hangar, leaving _Pathfinder_ and the signs around it clear, almost as if they are sacred or important works of art. He rubs his face tiredly. "Yeah, I'm alright. I'm fine. Are we ready to transmit a message back?" He asks, partly because he's wondering and partly to ease the concern on Meta's face.

"Yes-"

"We've been ready for 10 minutes! I thought this was something important to you, but it's totally fine, I'm okay chilling out here!" Someone yells pointedly. 

The technician. 

Before Copley can gather up the energy to reply, because he really is too tired to deal with this shit, Meta is already yelling back:

 _"Maybe_ if you'd let your superiors know when you finished your tasks, you wouldn't be in this self-made situation!" 

_"Maybe_ if they came over here, we could just get started!" 

Meta doesn't dignify that with a response. Copley shakes his head and stands up, joining Meta in walking over to the technician's busy table. 

"He's really your best tech?" 

"I'd take him over Keane any day," she replies, "at least I can yell back at him." 

He snorts. "You can yell back to Keane. You just can only do it _once."_

"Speaking from experience?"

"Do I _look_ dead to you?" 

She laughs at him. "You don't want me to answer that." 

He laughs because she's right, they must look dead on their feet, and must make quite a sight, laughing and stumbling across the hangar together. Especially given they are the highest ranking people here.

He doesn't care. He keeps smiling as they reach the table, and ignores the look on the technician's face. It's only until they are looking at the screen again that they sober up. Only when faced with the image; grainy stripes of discolored mars displayed side by side to make one complete picture, Joe's sign standing front and center.

He ignores his shaking hands, the way their laughter already feels so far away and unfamiliar. 

He has a job to do.

"Alright. Time to respond."

* * *

**OKAY, LOGAIN: OKAY, METEOROLOGY: NONFUNCTIONAL, SOLAR A: NONFUNCTIONAL, SOLAR B: NONFUNCTIONAL, SOLAR C: NONFUNCTIONAL, HARDWARE CHECK COMPLETE**

**THEN:**

  
**SIGNAL ACQUIRED.**

**THEN:**

**CAMERA HARDWARE: CHECK COMPLETE.**

**CAMERA CONTROL, REMOTE: FUNCTIONAL.**

**THEN:**

**INITIATE CONTROL.**

* * *

**48**

**4F**

**57**

**41**

**4C**

**49**

**56**

**45**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i prmoise there is no copley/meta they're just bffs rn and understand each other a fuckton
> 
> here's a quick quick article (barely) that explains hexadecimal system and how it was used in the martian: https://www.businessinsider.com/the-martian-hexidecimal-language-2015-9?op=1  
> here's the martian wiki about it too, bc the diff btw the movie and not was that the movie had mark adding an extra 17th sign with a question mark, which is stuid af bc we know there's an ascii code for that. so a commenter on the wiki did the 16 signs plan (which is correct) and calculated the degrees of arc there, so shout out to them for doing math bc i'm too gay :D
> 
> i have no idea about pathfinder command codes at all, so i literally just fucked aaround (the sol log 0 to signal aquired are not mine) when writing the image recievedd and the camera remote control shit
> 
> the last bold section is the responsing message they send to joe, which is not exactly a legible cross transliteration in terms of operation and literary devices, but it means 'howalive' bc that's what in the movies and book. don't worry if u forget bc it's going in next contact chapteer too <3
> 
> i love love comments, kudos', shrieks, hearts, etc etc!!! i respond to everything and it makes me feel so amazing to hear what ppl think and to be able to reply and talk w ppl about all of this bc i rly like writing this
> 
> omg i totally forgot but i'm working on some art for these chapters(ish) that hopefully i'll share eventually! :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! i'm back from the dead a bit and excited abt this chapter! it's joe's pov of contact and we get righteously angry joe! 
> 
> for trigger warnings, we do have a mention of joe wondering if he's dead (bc he's stuck on mars alone) for brief moment of depression ( but it's not unreality/psychosis). You can just skip the sentence/paragraph that starts w 'On those lonely nights' and be fine <3

**HOWALIVE**

Looking at his scribbled letters, Joe laughs at the absurdity that he's been able to finally translate the ASCII code into the real message from ground. He has to sit back in his chair, wiping hands down his face and blinking repeatedly. 

Nothing seems real at the moment. His brain is still stuck on the fact that this is all possible. That he's actually _communicating_ with earth. That they know he's _alive._

**HOWALIVE**

It figures that would be the first question they ask him, hell, it'd be the first question _he_ would ask. Especially if one of his family members was somehow miraculously alive on Mars after everyone thought they were dead. 

**HOWALIVE**

It's funny. At night, when space feels close enough to touch, when the darkness is all encompassing, when he feels insignificant and so small, but also nebulous and fathomless- he asks the same question of himself.

_How **am** I alive?_

_How did I make it? How did I survive? **Why** did I survive?_

It really shouldn't be possible, or, at least _highly_ improbable that he survived everything. He was _stabbed_ with the antenna, was ripped from Nicky's grasp, during a freak storm on mars, and somehow managed to stay alive, _growing_ his own food, for _months_ now. 

**HOWALIVE**

He can barely believe it himself, and he has to live with it every damn day. 

On those lonely nights, on those nights where he feels closer to stars than human, he wonders if he even survived. 

But now is not time for moping- today is a stupendous day of contact, and he intends to be happy. Intends to be his charming self and keep the darker thoughts locked behind his bright smile and spontaneous laughter. 

He takes a breath, and centers himself. He laughs once more before grabbing his sharpie and an unvandalized tupperware lid:

_My death, greatly exaggerated._   
_Impaled by antenna, bio-monitor destroyed._   
_Crew had reason to think me dead._   
_Not their fault._   
_NOT THEIR FAULT._

* * *

He's sitting in the sun on a rock near _Pathfinder's_ set-up, waiting for ground to see and reply to his message, when he finally has the time to think about what's all happened.

_Fuck-_

Where does he even start? At the beginning?

He had been pacing nervously around the set-up, waiting to see if _Sojourner_ would move in response, hoping beyond reason and scared beyond his senses, trying not to let his thoughts spiral out of control.

He failed.

His head had been _swamped_ with uncertainty and self-deprecation. There was so much that could go wrong to even get the message to earth. There was so much that he had to have gotten _exactly_ correct, no screw-ups allowed, a big hail mary as his last option for communication. Even if they did get the message, what if they couldn't move _Sojourner?_ There was no other way he could get in contact with them, no other way they could communicate _back_ to him with help or instructions. 

No way to communicate with Nicky or his family.

Fuck, he had worn a path into the dirt with how much he had been pacing, heart beating so quick he thought it might burst out of his chest. His eyes were glued on _Pathfinder,_ watching for any small movement that might happen.

Such small movements that meant his life was saved. 

_Fuck,_ the wait and the hope was excruciating. 

With each minute passed and no movement, he felt heavier and heavier, felt numb inside.

_What if it doesn't work?_

He was staring at his hands, trying to breathe through his nerves when he heard it.

 _Heard_ it?

He spun around, immediately seeing that he had been right, he _had_ heard something-

_Sojourner._

Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck-

He couldn't believe his eyes, he couldn't believe it but it was happening, _Sojourner_ _was turning!_

He ran over in a daze, almost tripping in haste, coming to a stop behind _Pathfinder_ to see where _Sojourner_ was pointed.

**Yes**

The sob burst out of his chest as his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, weeping and crying, unable to catch his breath.

_HOLY FUCK THEY DID IT HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK_

He couldn't think beyond his racing heart, couldn't think past the immense relief drowning him.

He could only moan and tip his head into the dirt, weeping in thanks, in joy, in hope, in all the feelings he couldn't name but he _felt them, he felt them **all.**_ God, he was so lucky, he could barely breathe.

Tears fell against his visor, snot clogged his throat and dripped from his nose, and he could barely take a breath but it was all _worth it-_

It was worth it worth it worth it-

Contact, he made contact.

HE MADE CONTACT!

He can only laugh in disbelief, can only hold on as he pants, cries, laughs, whispers prayers of thanks and Nicky's name over and over. 

_Nicky Nicky Nicky Nicky he can get back to Nicky he can talk to him he can talk with his family he's not alone he's alive and his family will know and he will be saved and Nicky Nicky Nicky he will be in his arms and everything will be okay, Nicky will take care of him and he'll get off this godforsaken planet and back with his family and everything will be okay everything will be okay-_

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. 

He needed to send a message, needed to let Nicky know he was okay that he was _alive-_

His visor was smeared with tears and snot, but he didn't care. He scrambled to his feet, almost falling on his ass, and he laughed in disbelief- 

Contact! He'd made contact!

Running to the HAB, he can barely think of anything besides the moment. Nothing about how difficult it was to survive here, nothing about how they had no way to adequately communicate back and forth- no, all he could think about was Nicky's warm hands and soft voice, calling to him and pulling him close.

If he stretched his hand out, Nicky would grasp back this time.

* * *

**My Moon, space is dull without you**

* * *

Adjusting the camera, Joe looks at it critically before he deems it's position is good enough.

"Okay, okay okay. I'm back, and I can _totally_ focus and explain what's going on." Joe's words quickly tumble out after each other,  
and his hands gesture erratically in the small space of the rover's front seat. 

"Okay, so that's a lie. Whatever, doesn't matter. Nope! Okay, deep breaths," he slowly inhales, then exhales, but it does little to curb his frantic energy. "...that's the best I can do. So, you're going to have to deal with ADHD Joe for this conversation. And boy is there a lot to cover." 

He smiles blindingly at the camera. "First off, holy shit, we made contact! I already had a major freak out- pro-tip, you will most likely regret getting snot all over the inside of your helmet if you have to clean it when you're no longer a mess. Then you just feel kinda bad for yourself. Anyways- had my freak out, lost my shit, sobbed in the dirt for awhile, rediscovered my will to live blah blah blah, and then proved once again that I'm smarter than the Old Guard by coming up with a system of communication. Suck it, nerds!" 

He laughs loudly, unable to contain all the happiness inside his body, all the relief and joy that's making him burst at the seams.

"It's all thanks to Quynh, I must admit. So, talking wasn't going to help if ground could only answer yes/no questions, so we had to figure out a different way. Enter one Quynh Ngo, wonder nerd of them all- Quynh, I love you, thank you for living your best nerd life... also, I can't believe Andy let you marry her oh my god." 

He laughs, "Of all people to have an ASCII table, I'm only marginally surprised it was you. And I can't be too mean about it, because it's technically what's keeping me alive right now and letting me talk to earth. So. Anyways. I bring this up because there I was, having limited communication, and we had no idea, or at least I'm assuming they didn't, because again, I'm _way_ smarter than them, how to talk larger concepts to each other. So, ergo, I went snooping through the laptops to see if there was anything you guys had that I could use." 

He stares at the camera solemnly. "Guys, jesus fuck I'm disappointed in you all. There was _nothing_ cool on any of your laptops, not even porn or furry art or animal memes. Andy, I know you don't trust technology, but seriously? Only having 1984 on it and nothing else? If this was a murder mystery you'd be the person everyone thought did it. Nile, cool homework or whatever brain puzzles you've been doing, number 27 is wrong, by the way. Nicky, you somehow make data charts sexy, somehow- or mars is starting to get to me now. Either is possible. Booker, as previously mentioned, you have my condolences, as we tragically lost your laptop to the dark void of space and forgotten physics lessons. If you had any blackmail-worthy shit on there, I'll never know. Such a shame."

Waving a hand dismissively, he continues. "Anyways, we managed to set up a communication method, which I will totally geek out about later when I have any emotional capacity left in my soul- I would like to offer another pro-tip to the masses: If you don't have access to laundry machines, say, because you are on mars for some reason, for example, tears _will_ dry in clothing, and the salt _will_ harden in clothing, and then your helmet's expensive face-hugging sock will be itchy and gross. So, remember kids, wash out the tears first! Or, maybe, don't cry in the first place. But, you know, we all fail that step." 

He does an exaggerated Vanna White motion around his face and helmet underlayer, waggling his eyebrows at the same time. 

"'It's Britney, bitch.'" 

He cracks up, throwing his head back and laughing loudly, because everything is so damn absurd right now, everything is so so much and so good and so terrible all at once and if he doesn't laugh at it all he's going to cry again and he can't do that right now, he's gotta hold on to the wild, boggling truth that something may actually being going _right_ since this shitty situation first started almost three months ago. If laughing will get him through it, it's not the worst thing that could happen.

It takes awhile to calm down, and if some of his trailing laughs sound much closer to sobs, he will never admit it. 

"Anyways- I set-up ASCII signs around _Pathfinder,_ and then _Sojourner_ swivels and points at signs while I frantically scribble down codes and then go inside and hurriedly decode them into messages, tape my tupperware lid to the post to send my own message back, wait an hour panicking and trying to not anxiously stare at _Pathfinder,_ get the next message, and repeat the previous steps over and over. And now-" 

He breaks off and waves to the rover around him, "that brings us to the long awaited question: 'Joe, why the fuck are you in the rover?' And let me say: One, mind your own damn business, maybe I needed a change of scenery. Two, that was rude and I apologize. And three, it's because the smart people at Old Guard have sent me instructions in how to hack the rover so that it can talk to _Pathfinder._ If I hack a teensy-weensy bit of code, just twenty instructions in the rover's operating system, Old Guard can link the rover to _Pathfinder's_ broadcasting frequency, and BAM texting from mars, data fees do not apply." 

He smiles at the camera before grabbing the notepad on his lap and holding it next to the rover's main dash screen, tongue peeking out as he concentrates on slowly and carefully changing the code in front of him. The screen lights up his face as he looks back and forth from the notepad to the screen, minutes passing as he types away. 

"Aha!" 

Joe sits up quickly, smiling wide as he drops the notebook. He turns to the camera immediately. "That's my part done, now we just have to wait for ground to do their part." He grabs the camera and pulls it down from the wall of the rover, pointing it at the screen. 

A loading symbol blinks sluggishly, and he can barely contain his excitement. 

It takes thirty minutes before anything happens, at which point his arms hurt from holding the camera up and the loading symbol is burned into his retinas. 

The symbol blinks in and out of existence.

He holds his breath.

The camera focuses on the screen. 

**Joe, this is Copley. We've been watching you since sol 54...**

* * *

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [19:42]: The whole world is rooting for you, Joe. Amazing job, getting _Pathfinder._ We're working on rescue plans. **

**PATHFINDER [19:45]: Hello world, hello Old Guard; how's the view down there? Mine's pretty amazing.**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [19:50]: Funny. It's the same as usual, boring old Earth. Joe, we want you to know we're putting together a supply mission to keep you fed until Ares 4 arrives.**

**PATHFINDER [19:53]: Glad to hear it. Really looking forward to not dying from reverse potato famine.**

**PATHFINDER [19:53]: It's because all I have to eat is potatoes, if you didn't get it. ... I haven't really talked to anyone for months, so sorry in advance.**

**PATHFINDER [19:55]: How's the crew? How's Nicky? What did they say when they found out I was alive? When can I talk with them?**

**PATHFINDER [20:02]: Hello? Mission control? Copley?**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:07]: ... Joe, there's something we have to tell you.**

**PATHFINDER [20:08]: Oh god, they didn't survive, did they? No no no no no, they can't be dead, that can't be true. Copley, I swear, don't do this to me, don't you _dare_**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:10]: Joe! Stop, they're alive!**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:10]: Everyone is fine, they're all fine and on their way back.**

**PATHFINDER [20:11]: So what's the problem then**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:13]: ... We haven't told the crew you're alive yet.**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:14]: We need them to concentrate on the mission.**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:20]: Joe? Hello? Are you receiving?**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:25]: Al-Kaysani? Come in, al-Kaysani.**

**PATHFINDER [20:30]: They don't know I'm ALIVE? What the fuck, what the ever loving fuck??? What the fuck is wrong with you goddamn assholes??? Are you just sitting there with your thumbs up your asses, happily sucking corporate dicks while us real astronauts are doing all the shitty terrible work and I'm stuck up on goddamned mars and my FAMILY thinks I'm DEAD?????**

**PATHFINDER [20:32]: Wallahi, MY GODDAMN _HUSBAND_ DOESN'T KNOW I'M ALIVE BECAUSE YOU FUCKERS ARE ALL COWARDS AND PATHETIC SYCOPHANTS TO OLD GUARD???? **

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:34]: Joe, please, watch your language, everything you type is being broadcast live all over the world.**

**PATHFINDER [20:40]: BASTA! SMETTILA! NON VOGLIO VIVERE SENZA DI LUI! FUCKING SHITHEAD COCKSUCKERS, GODDAMN BASTARDS! YOU'RE A BUNCH OF BUREAUCRATIC FELCHERS AND WEAK-ASS MOTHERFUCKERS WHO PLAY WITH CREW'S EMOTIONS AND LIVES AND KEEPS SECRETS ABOUT PEOPLE BEING ALIVE BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO 'FOCUS ON THE MISSION'???? FUCKING SUCK-UPS, YOU'RE ALL GODDAMN DISGRACES TO HUMANS JESUS FUCK. LYING SONS OF BITCHES, FUCKING SCUM, CHICKENSHIT BASTARDS, STUCK ON ANOTHER GODDAMN PLANET AND CAN'T EVEN TALK TO MY HUSBAND AND FAMILY BECAUSE YOU ALL CAN'T PUT ON YOUR FUCKING BIG BOY SHOES AND ADMIT THAT SOMETHING IS WRONG AND THAT MY CREW WOULD DO ANYTHING TO SAVE ME!!! FUCKING SHITHEAD MOTHERFUCKERS, NIQUE TA MERE, VA TE FAIRE FOUTRE! KOL KHARA! I HOPE ALL YOUR TEETH FALL OUT, YOU DIE A TERRIBLE HORRIBLE DEATH, AND NO ONE WEEPS AT YOUR GRAVE. 'FOCUS ON THE MISSION' MY ASS. GOD FUCKING DAMN. PEICE OF SHIT. YOU MUST BE CHOKING ON CORPORATE'S DICK WHILE THE MILITARY FUCKS YOU FROM BEHIND, ALL THE WHILE GETTING OFF ON IT. FUCKING 'FOCUS ON THE MISSION!" THAT'S MY _HUSBAND!!_ THAT'S MY _HUSBAND!!_ HOW??? HOW??? HOW CAN YOU DO THIS???? _MY HUSBAND????_**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:50]: Joe... we understand you're under a tremendous amount of stress**

**PATHFINDER [20:51]: Nope! No no no no, don't you 'Joe' me. Nope, I'm not doing this right now, I can't. Nope. Here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to bed, in my bastardized HAB, where I will sleep for hopefully five hours, at which point, I will come back here, and you better have figured out how you're going to tell my family I'm alive. If you haven't, then I will leave and do my numerous chores (because I'm stuck on goddamned MARS) for hours until I come back. If you still haven't told them I'm alive, I leave again. Do you see the pattern here?**

**PATHFINDER [20:53]: I'm not going to play your fucking games, not with my family. Not with them. Figure your shit out, or I don't talk. The longer you wait, the worse it's going to be for everyone. I wonder what the public will think about that.**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [20:57]: Joe, this isn't a hostage situation, you don't have to make demands. We are working on getting you supplies and we will talk it over about telling the crew. This _isn't_ a hostage situation, Joe, and this isn't us being purposefully cruel.**

**PATHFINDER [20:59]: Could've fooled me. Al-Kaysani out.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations!
> 
> italian: BASTA! SMETTILA! NON VOGLIO VIVERE SENZA LUI! (STOP! ENOUGH! I DON'T WANT TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM)
> 
> french: nique ta mere (fuck ur mother) (i know i missed the accent lol). va te faire foutre (go fuck urself)
> 
> ARABIC: KOL KHARA (EAT SHIT)
> 
> and then the longer ones are structured/inspired by yiddish phrases/curses. i did have a vietnamese swear in there bc quynh, but couldn't find good resources to know which swear to use, and the one i was most comfy with was along the lines of sex worker shaming sorts
> 
> next chapter will be the crew's reaction to finding out joe's alive! i also made some art for the story, which is why i didn't post for awhile bc i got sucked into an art frenzy, and i'm deciding if i want to post that as the next chapter instead (but it has not plot point there, just is a background point so maybe i'd write the point in somewhere and then add the art?) idk!
> 
> for the sinners/saints fic, i'm getting there! promise <3 but also idk when but don't worry it's def on my mind and wants <3  
> also, i started a new fic (whoops) that i might post too! it's def waaaay shorter, like, already wrote half of it in a day lmao
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading! love anything u guys think/feel/send my way!!! feel free to scream w me on tumblr or smthng :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit this took time but i also loved writing it the entire time and my brain is fucking FRIED esp after all the editing and just rereading everything rn omg  
> this is the chapter where the crew find out that joe's alive! 
> 
> as such, lots of trigger warnings: Nicky and dissociation/panic attacks/breakdowns; Nicky's low self-worth and low mental health; Nicky vaguely talking about past issues with suicidal idealization; depressing thoughts and self-hatred.   
> like, hopefully it's nothing too bad, and he gets lots of love and he's so happy joe is back but he's also a fucking mess and this reflects that

Quynh's voice is quiet over the ship-wide speakers, "Data dump is almost complete. Two minutes until complete." 

Andy sighs, feeling heavy with the weight of the world despite the low gravity. Four months, that's how long it's been. It's been four months since they left Mars, since the worst thing happened to their family. They are professionals, and they're handling it, but every time there's a data dump or communication between ground she feels exhausted. Each and every task seems that much harder, getting out of bed more difficult, talking and smiling with ground that much more grating. 

"Data dump is complete." Quynh's voice rings out in the silence of her empty room and she sighs again. She hits her communicator, "Copy. Coming to you." 

She exits her room and begins the floating trip to the rec room, running into Nile on the way. Nile smiles widely at her as she cuts her off from the ladder. 

Andy can't help but smile. "You're in a hurry." 

Nile laughs happily. "My nephew turned three yesterday- should be some pics of the party. I told my family to take lots of pictures for me, and I'm sure that my brother managed to steal the camera for a bit and take very unflattering pictures when people weren't looking." 

Snorting, Andy smiles fondly. Nile is so mature at times, the youngest on their crew to come to mars and youngest to graduate their program. Sometimes Andy forgets that she is still a young woman, growing into herself and not weighed down by all the years. 

Noticing Andy's prolonged silence, Nile stops moving so that Andy floats straight into her, jarring them both. Before Andy can muster up a 'what's wrong,' Nile is grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the end of the hall excitedly. "C'mon, I'll show you them all, and we can make fun of people together." 

* * *

Nicky watches Andy and Nile walk in, Nile smiling widely and Andy's eyes crinkled in fondness. Everyone else is already standing around Quynh's computer set up watching over her shoulder.

Data dumps are almost like friday night dinners. Or more like a gift-giving meeting. They get everything ground has sent; group messages, updates, personal messages. It makes it easier if they sit around and read or watch the updates and group messages together first, and then everyone can look at their personals. 

He pulls his sleeves over his hands, trying to hide the shaking. Since Joe- 

Since they left mars, he's been receiving more personals than ever before. Joe's family contacts him often, and it hurts so much but it also comforts him; this connection that still exists and the ability to remember Joe and not drown at the same time. His family, as removed as they are from his life, send perfunctory emails of condolences. 

But now isn't the time to get lost in his thoughts. Looking up, everyone is watching him softly, and he shakes his head at the completely inane notion of being able to get away hiding anything from his family. They notice everything, and just as usual, they don't draw attention to his struggle but instead offer silent comfort and understanding. 

It makes tears come to his eyes every time. 

"Alright," Quynh clears her throat before speaking, "we've got a batch of personals. I've already sent them to everyone's personal laptops- I don't need to read Booker's weird French fetish emails-" 

Everyone laughs at the familiar joke, and Booker replies like he always does, "they're telemetry updates, Quynh."

"Whatever you say," she winks exaggeratedly, and the familiar joke makes Nicky feel safe and the tiniest bit hopeful that maybe things won't be awful and terrible forever, that he will learn to laugh loudly and smile and love just as he had before everything. "We have a system update too, which I'll take care of unless Booker or Nile wants to-" 

"Nope!" Niles says happily while Booker shakes his head, "that's all you, my friend." 

Everyone chuckles. Looking back at the large monitor, Quynh scrolls through the data dump before her eyes catch onto something.

"Huh," she mutters distractedly, shaking her head.

"Quynh?" Andy gently touches her arm. "What's up?" 

Looking up at her in puzzlement, she glances at everyone before returning to Andy. "There's a voice message. Addressed to the whole crew." 

Andy's brow crinkles, they rarely if ever get voice messages. They had one in the beginning as they first adjusted to being in space, they had another before they landed, reminding them of everything they needed to do. Otherwise most communications with mission control are over messaging or data dump info packets and updates. Voice messages are an oddity. She doesn't know what it means, but she nods at Quynh anyways. "Play it." 

Quynh clicks on the message and it opens a large video window taking up most of the screen:

_It's Copley, looking exhausted sitting at a cubicle in capcom, cheap headphones with a mic attached on his head. His face is haggard, and the harsh light of the video does not help. The video is grainy and muted in colors, but still viewable._

_"Crew, it's me, Copley." On screen Copley wipes a hand down his face. "I have some news for you. And there's no subtle way to put this." He looks directly into the camera, and it makes Nicky feel like Copley is looking straight into his soul. Copley tenses, as if preparing for a blow, and Nicky can't help but follow, shoulders drawing up to his ears and fists clenching. Taking a deep breath, on screen Copley sighs._

_"Joe is still alive."_

What?

There's ringing in Nicky's ears suddenly, loud ringing that drowns out every other sound. He can't think over the noise engulfing him, it's like his brain has shut down in order to protect him. His thoughts are sluggish, his vision wavers, and his ears won't stop _ringing._

Joe's _alive?_

He can't keep control of his body, his limbs don't work and he can barely move; he falls to the ground, knees absorbing the impact he barely notices. The pain doesn't register over the ringing in his ears. His hands are trembling, he can't breathe, he feels like he's been hit by a train. 

_Joe's alive?_

How can this be possible? _What's going on?_ _Please,_ he doesn't know what's going on, he can barely feel his body, he barely feels real himself-

It's been four months, please, no, they can't have _left him-_

He's sobbing now, the only reason he knows is that his face is wet with tears and his chest is shuddering like his ribs are going to crack and break with all the pain he feels in his heart and he can't-

They left Joe _behind?_

Please, God, let this not be true. Please, he can't be- yes it's a miracle and it means he can have his Joe back, his sun, Yusuf, but it means they _left him there,_ that he didn't die, that he had to see them launch without him and know he was stuck there and they all thought he was _dead_ and he doesn't have the ability to survive that long the HAB isn't built that way they didn't bring enough food because the next mission is in _years_ and Yusuf is _still there_ and what kind of _husband_ is he to have left him? _God,_ when Yusuf's hand had slipped through his, something inside of him _broke_ and he screamed into the storm all his rage and sorrow and he did not care if he didn't come back with Andy because at least he would be with Joe and they would be together but now Joe's actually _alive_ and he doesn't know how to handle this how to handle _any of it-_

Joe's _alive._

His body shakes and shudders with his sobs, his lungs feel weak, his heart too broken and shattered, his body too small to hold all the excruciating pain inside of him. 

Joe's _alive._

And they _left him._

The ringing in his ears gets louder, and it hurts and it's so _loud,_ and he _hates_ himself and he left Joe behind and he's trying to stop the noise with his hands over his ears but it doesn't work and if this ringing keeps up God he's so dizzy he can't breathe and he feels himself choking on his tears but everything feels so far away from him, like he isn't really here or there or anything and he _can't without Joe-_

* * *

The next thing he knows, his forehead is pressed against the cool floor and he is no longer crying. His head still feels fuzzy, like reality is just a bit too unfocused, but the ringing has finally stopped and he can breathe again. He doesn't feel as if he's going to explode or shatter at any moment. 

"Nicolo?" A voice whispers softly from his side. 

It's then he notices that there is a strong hand rubbing up and down his back, and he can immediately tell it's Booker's- he would know the feel of Booker comforting him anywhere, and he takes a deep breath and tries to relax. 

Awareness keeps coming back slowly, with the sensation of fingers in his hair and his hands being held tightly. His family. They're all here.

Except Joe. 

But Joe's _alive._

He can't believe it. If he thinks about it for too long the ringing comes back and he can feel himself hiding himself back into his mind- but his family is here and taking care of him and they need to know he's okay. 

So he has to try hard not to get lost in his head again. The feeling of their hands on him ground him, give him something to focus on that isn't his raging thoughts. He squeezes his hands around his family's.

"Nicolo? Are you back?" 

It's Andy's voice, soft and caring. He must be holding one of her hands, hers and Quynh's, and he squeezes again, focusing on the feeling of skin on skin, of their hands holding tightly, warmly. 

"Nicolo." 

And that's Booker's voice. It's coming from behind him, just like always, because Booker is always on his six, always there for him. 

"Nicolo," Booker says gently, "can you sit up for us? We just want to make sure you're okay." 

And he knows he can do that. Knows that he can pull himself back together for a moment before his family helps him put all of his pieces back together again. 

He sits up slowly, eyes closed, allowing Booker's hands on his shoulders to draw him up and back so he rests against Booker's chest. He clings tightly to the hands in his, and it's the feeling of being surrounded and supported from all sides that means he can open his eyes. 

Slowly, looking around, everyone looks as stunned as he feels. Andy's face looks her normal neutral, but he can see the tension in her jaw and at the corner of her eyes, can see the way she's just a bit _too_ still. The way she is almost blank, the kind of blank that means there's a storm inside of her bursting to get out, a storm she's fighting and battling against because she's in charge and she has to lead them even when things get overwhelming. 

Nile sits in front of him, crying silently with her hand over her mouth in shock. Andy and Quynh each have their other hands placed on her knees, and he feels a twinge of guilt for his own breakdown that has drawn attention to him and not to her. She's so young, and she should be wrapped up safely and yet he knows she would never allow them to focus on her instead of him right now because what they do is dangerous and she loves it but Nicky wishes he could save her from this pain and heart ache. Wishes she didn't have to go through all of this. Her eyes, bright with unshed tears, nearly make him start crying again; there's so much pain. 

He turns and sees Quynh holding his other hand and she smiles tremulously at him, and he's reminded that Quynh is stronger than anyone, that she will survive and try to smile and try to make shitty situations just a bit better for everyone around her and he can see that steel and determination in her now. Can see her bracing for the world to fall apart and can see her preparing to putting it all back together. 

He can't see Booker, but he doesn't need to. He can feel tears pressed against the back of his neck and shoulders, can feel the hitch in Booker's breath, and yet Booker's arms around him are tight and comforting; somehow Booker still manages to take care of him even when he too is suffering. 

"Hi Nicky," Quynh smiles at him gently again, and it's only then that he realizes they're all on the floor together, packed in close and leaning against each other. It's not surprising it took him this long to notice, he's still a bit dazed from before. "Do you remember what happened?" 

He looks into her eyes and can see her ready for any answer he gives. Whether it's him forgetting what's happened, him breaking into tears again, or he just shutting down because he can't handle the truth- she's ready.

It takes him clearing his throat a few times before he can get the words out. "...Joe. It's- he's- he's alive." 

Andy squeezes his hand again, and Quynh smiles back at him, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

"Yes, we were watching the video message Copley sent us. We didn't watch the rest, we wanted to wait for you." 

He goes to open his mouth in protest, they should've just watched it, he didn't need to be taken care of right away, what if it's something important- but Nile interrupts him easily.

"We watch it together or we don't watch it at all." And he can see her slowly putting herself back together, see her trying to steel herself like Quynh, trying to keep her emotions in check like Andy. 

"You know this, Nicolo," Booker says quietly from behind him, and he's right. Nicky _does_ know this. They're a team and a family first. 

He nods silently instead, and he can tell the moment everyone lets themself relax a bit, now that his breakdown seems to be over. It pains him to know that he can hurt his family like this, but he's been told many times that this isn't pain, that it's his family caring for him and loving him, and that he does the same when it's other people, when he stands patiently by with his love available for anyone. 

"Hey Nicky," and he jolts a little at Nile's voice because his thoughts trailed off there and he hadn't been paying attention. 

"Nile," he says softly, and likes that he can still make her smile. 

"We were going to watch the rest of the message. Are you okay to watch it, or should we take a break and watch it later? It's up to you."

And she means it. It's up to him. If he says no, then they put it aside with understanding, and they do something else. If he says yes, then they watch it, and he can stop at anytime. The same goes for them. If Booker doesn't want to watch it now, they won't. If Nile needs to stop in the middle of it, they will.

They come first. Taking care of each other always comes first. 

The last four months have really hammered that in. 

"I- I'm okay to watch now," he says softly, leaning back more when Booker squeezes him proudly. 

"Alright," Quynh says, glancing at Andy until she gets a nod back. "I'm actually pretty comfy where I'm at, so I vote we just tilt the screen and watch from down here." 

"Seconded," Nile raises her hand tiredly. 

"Thirded," Booker mutters into his shoulder, once again continuing their familiar jokes. 

"The numbers have ruled," Quynh says with mock solemnity, and she quickly stands up to tilt the screen and grab her tablet that's hooked up to the computer. "Floor time it is." 

Andy snorts, and while Nicky and Booker shuffle to turn around, Nicky catches her eye and they nod in understanding. Understanding that he will be alright, understanding that if she needs to talk he's there to listen, no matter what. Understanding that things are looking up, and they're still okay. Understanding that the love each other completely. 

"Here we go," Quynh presses a button on her tablet, and the video message resumes playing:

_"I know it's a surprise. It was a surprise to us as well, ... we weren't expecting something like this." Copley pauses and glances away before he looks back at the camera. "I know you'll have lots of questions, so I'm going to start off with the basics." He braces himself again._

_"Joe is alive and healthy. We found out two months ago and decided not to tell you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It wasn't right of us and I was strongly against it but it happened and I'm so sorry. I can't know what any of you are going through."_

By the phrasing of his last sentence, they can all tell he means Nicky. Not that everyone else wasn't affected, but Copley knew how bad Nicky was during those first few days. How he was almost catatonic. The entire Old Guard knows.

In Booker's lap, Nicky feels himself tense up, feels the trembling coming back to his hands. 

Two months? They've known for _two months?_ Why would they do this to them? 

And even as he asks the question he knows the answer, and it whispers cruelly at him:

_Because if they told you two months ago you would've broken completely, you would've done anything or you couldn't live with yourself and you would've done something permanent._

The thoughts stab into him and he can barely stand it, yet he knows they are just thoughts and they aren't his and he doesn't have to listen to them. He just needs to focus on Booker and his family around him, and the assurance that Joe is _alive_ out there. 

_On screen, Copley runs a hand through his hair, somehow managing to look more stressed than he did when he started the message. "We're telling you now because we finally made contact with him and because we can communicate now and have a viable rescue plan. ...I know it's not enough, but we will send you a... full write up, of what has happened." Copley pauses before he casually leans back in his seat, looking out of his cubicle both ways to make sure no one is looking at him. He leans forward close to the camera, voice dropping to a whisper. "I've also sent the few messages we have from Joe that are for you all. The data dumps get checked of course, but I managed to stuff these in without notice. I'll be found out eventually, but you have the right to see these."_

Andy and Quynh look at each other, communicating silently, and Nicky knows that Quynh is already planning to check where the messages are hidden. Nile looks at him, and he can only shrug because he does not know the rules like Andy does, nor does he know the tech like Quynh does. He doesn't know what this means for Copley when he gets caught, and he doesn't know what it means for them to receive the messages.

_In the video, Copley continues talking hurriedly. "You need to know, that Joe stresses this every time it comes up, that this isn't your fault. Everything that happened, he doesn't blame you. It feels like every other sentence is him stating that it's not your fault, so please believe me when I tell you that he does not blame you **at all.** " He pauses, and in that moment the world weighs heavy on Copley's shoulders- his mouth is in a permanent frown, his eyes filled with sadness, shoulders slumped, and exhaustion looms over him. In that moment, Copley looks like he's lost some important spark inside of him, almost empty inside except for the disbelief and exhaustion, with only the smallest amount of hope still shining._

_"Take some time to absorb this," Copley continues, sitting back in his chair with a casual air. "Your science schedules are cleared for tomorrow, but I know you've been handling things well yourselves schedule-wise. Send us all the questions you want and we'll answer them. ...I would normally tell you to not send your complaints with inappropriate language, ...but Joe has already broken that rule many times; which would first imply that he was following it at all before." Copley's small smirk is sharply-edged, like he is proud that Joe is fighting back against the Old Guard, that at least someone is paying for what they've done- even if it will all come back to Copley. Even if it means Copley is the one who gets punished. Yet, the vengeful smirk quickly falls, bringing back the painfully obvious exhaustion and stress. "I'm sorry, again. For... everything. I'm so sorry... Copley out."_

The screen fades to black as the video message ends, and they sit in stunned silence, brains trying frantically to catch up with what they've just learned, gears turning and reality over-writing itself with what has really happened. 

Joe's alive. 

Joe's alive and they have a _rescue plan._

It's Quynh who breaks first, a proud, yet subdued smirk on her face, "That's our boy, swearing up a storm with no fucks given about the consequences." 

Booker snorts and it's like a dam has opened, everyone suddenly talking over each other:

"He's alive!" 

"I can't believe it was _two months-"_

"I bet he chewed them out, I bet he went even _further-"_

"-and he's alive." 

"Holy shit, I can't-" 

"-how is it even possible?" 

_"Yusuf, my love-"_

"... I left him behind." 

"-and now we can- _**wait.** "_

Nile's voice cuts through their chatter immediately, and they all turn to look at her but she's glaring at Andy.

"What did you just say, Andy?" 

Andy looks lost, her eyes far away, fists clenched. Her words are terse, "I said: I left him behind." 

"Andy-"

"Boss-" 

"Love-" 

Nile manages to be heard over everyone else simultaneously talking. "Andy, that's _bullshit_ and we all know it." 

"She's right, Boss," Booker chimes in, "We all left together." 

" _You_ were following orders. _My_ orders." She pauses and squeezes her eyes together. They trade cautious glances over her head, but don't know what to say. "It was me, _I_ left him behind."   
  
Nicky doesn't know how she can blame herself. _He_ was the one who let Yusuf slip out of his fingers, _he_ was the one who didn't hold on tight enough, how could Andy think it was _her fault-_

But before he can say anything, before Nile's hand reaches out in comfort, Andy is on her feet and turning away, striding out of the room without a glance back. 

Nicky feels stunned, and going by the looks of everyone else, they feel the same. 

Andy _never_ storms out, never lets her anger get the best of her.

Before he can even open his mouth, Quynh is up and hurrying after her, "Andy! Don't you dare lock me out, my wife! We're talking about this!" 

And then it's only Booker, Nile, and Nicky left in the room; it feels much emptier now. The old familiar feeling of there being an extra space for Joe is back, and every room seems emptier again, because Joe should _be_ there and laughing and slinging an arm around their shoulders, and comforting Andy and believing that everything will be fine. 

But he's _alive._ And there's a plan to get him back. 

Nile breaks the silence first, "...I guess I'm going to go see if I have any messages from Joe, ...and then go through the data dump like usual." 

"...Yeah," Booker chimes in, "that sounds like a good idea." 

Nicky nods along, and slowly they all get to their feet, hesitant to separate from each other but also not entirely wanting to be near each other. 

It's a feeling Nicky is intimately familiar with. 

"Well... I'll see you at dinner then." Nile waves awkwardly before leaving. 

Booker turns to face him, "You know where to find me if you need anything," he says quietly, pressing a quick kiss to Nicky's forehead. 

Nicky just nods and presses a quick kiss to his cheek back before Booker also heads out. 

Then it's just him, and the quickly approaching need to see the messages from Joe. 

He can do this.

Joe's _alive._ Nicky will be able to read what Joe's sent, will get to know _for sure_ that he's safe and alive, will get the proof that his _husband_ is truly okay and coming back to him. 

* * *

Tears blur his vision, and Nicky's surprised he has any left to cry. They burn down his skin and surely the must have carved lines into his face by now. His shaking breaths makes the words on his computer screen move, and still he barely feels like he's moving at all. His heart _aches_ and he has no idea how he's still sitting upright, but he can tell how precarious his continued sitting is. He's going to fall over any moment, and he knows he'll barely feel it. He doesn't even care that he might fall.

And yet, despite all of this, the pain, the shaking, the tears, he can still see the messages perfectly. They will be burned into his mind forever. He will remember these words until he dies, his mouth will speak the words even when he is asleep, he could forget everything in the world and yet he would never forget them. Joe's words for him.

  
**My Moon, space is dull without you**

  
**_Nicolo._ My love, this is not your fault. Please believe me. I love you more than the stars themselves, and just knowing that you are safe and alive makes everything worth it. I'm coming back to you, no matter what. I look at the moons and you outshine them all. Wait for me, I'm already on my way back to you, my Nicolo.**

  
He has no idea how long he sits reading the messages, it could be minutes or hours. He has no clue how many tears he has cried, his body feels like it will never stop being wracked with sobs. He can barely think straight, can barely think beyond the sharp pain suffusing him and the buzzing in his ears at Joe's messages and Joe being _alive._

Far removed from himself, he can tell he is having another break down, can tell that he's losing himself in his grief and pain and hope and joy and fear and agony of it all. But there's no family around him this time, no Booker to wrap strong arms around him, no Andy, Quynh, or Nile to grab onto him and whisper assurances in his ears. No Joe to hold him tight and never let him go, to kiss him softly and look at him like he hung the stars and made the galaxy. 

He hates himself for somehow not knowing that Joe has been alive all this time, that he couldn't sense it somehow, that his heart didn't ache with separation from Joe and not from his overwhelming grief. How could he not have known? Joe is his _life._ He should have _known_ somehow. 

What kind of husband is he, to have left his husband on mars and to not even know that he was still alive?

How will Joe ever forgive him?

  
**Wait for me, I'm already on my way back to you, my Nicolo.**

  
He chokes on a sob and his hand trembles as it brushes against the cold screen, shakily tracing the letters of Yusuf's message to him. He will never forget these words, they are burned onto his heart and carved into his soul. 

If he just reaches far enough, maybe he will feel Joe. If he just closes his eyes, he can hear Joe's voice speaking the words, speaking heartfelt promises wrapped in determination, can feel Joe's love in every syllable. If he holds his breath, he can almost hear Joe's heart beating in time with his. If he just stretches a _bit farther,_ he _swears_ he can feel Joe's fingers _just_ brushing his.

_"Yusuf- My lo-love... **Please-** **I, I** **can't, not without you-"**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rly hope u all enjoyed it and i love to hear all comments and thoughts!!! seriously, it def helps me write and also seeing responses and helps the plot and it's all so great  
> rly hope u like it!   
> idk what the next chapter will look like, bc it's one where i have to play around with the pov again and what the message is, but it should be joe based these next few times, and hopefully i add in more chapters abt the crew in between some!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg hi everyone  
> yeah, it's been a long time  
> life kinda got messy, like really messy, and i had to take a break from writing  
> the last few days i've actually been able to write a bit, and so i'm really excited to share this all with you and see your thoughts and reactions <3
> 
> i don't know what the updates will look like for this, so please be patient with me <3 things are def picking up in the story, so it also means a bit more writing of important parts. esp w this one, i had to rewrite two entire scenes to joe's pov that had been mission controls, as well as some of his monologues and lots lots of action sequences
> 
> regardless, it's here
> 
> tws for it are for panic attacks (many), depression/oblique allusions to suicide (wanting a break/to just sleep), and dissociating

"Good morning people. Today is sol 128, which means it's been almost four months into my surprise stay-cation here. I'd give it about a four out of ten; views amazing, food edible, service terrible. However, in my humble opinion, I would say I have been on worse company retreats... so make of that what you will." 

Joe smiles tiredly at the camera, dark circles under his eyes and skin pulled tight around his smile. Making jokes helps, so does talking aloud (he's afraid he might forget how if he doesn't), but it works less and less to make him forget that he's all alone on another planet and has been alone for over four months now. If nothing else, he's going to get through this with jokes, bluster, and the promise of seeing Nicky when it's all done. 

Smiling softly at the image of what Nicky will look like when they finally reunite, he heads over to the water reclaimer, talking over his shoulder as he goes. 

"Now that ground control can talk to me, they won't fucking shut up." He hefts a large amount of water out, beginning to water his plants row by row. 

"Not that that's necessarily a bad thing- but they've literally got a room full of people trying to micromanage my every fucking move." He gestures to the HAB around him and glares at the camera. "Which, like, it's cool that I have awesome help and everything, but- and I don't mean to sound arrogant and rude here- I'm the best botanist on the planet, and I made it this far without them." He shakes his head and goes back to watering. "So. I don't need them telling me what to do, since they couldn't be fucked to find me for months anyways-" 

Around him, his potatoes have sprouted, and lush greenery covers every surface, almost obscuring Joe's feet from view. The soil is barely visible under the many leaves from each potato plant, and he couldn't be prouder of the success of his crop.

"But that's not really on them. I sure wouldn't have been looking for me if I knew what happened either." 

He stares at the plants with his hands on his hips, thoughts beginning to run away from him. 

_I'm the best botanist on the planet, and those people stuck at ground have no idea what it's like up here. No idea what I've even **done** to make this happen. _

_Nothing is supposed to grow on mars-_

_And yet here I am._

_Like, sure, I do need the help and I do need the rescue, obviously, but I've re-done the entire HAB, the rovers, found fucking **Pathfinder** and made it work, grown fucking **food** here- I don't need them to come in and tell me how to grow my potatoes or how many hours to work on food vs technology in my daily schedule- No. _

_What I **really** want, and at this point probably **need,** is a fucking therapist. On one hand I'm surprise no one's given me one yet, but on the other hand it's the Guard, so I'm really not surprised. Who knows how fucked up this will make me. I'd even take a cheerleader or something, maybe a nice grandma. Someone to listen to my issues, assure me that all I'm doing is enough (even if it's not because what would an old grandma know about surviving on an inhospitable planet with barely any means to actually survive), and maybe just smile and we can talk about something besides the shitshow my life has become. _

_Yeah._

_Something like that._

_Or, you know, talking to my family too. Both._

_Both would be great._

* * *

It takes a while for him to come back to himself, standing surrounded by his crops, the camera still rolling, an unknown amount of minutes having slipped past him with barely any notice. 

It's beginning to happen more and more, him getting lost in his own head, realizing hours later that he hasn't spoken aloud for almost an entire day, has done his chores on autopilot and he can't remember exactly what's happened. 

Not the best when everything he does is massively important and easy to fuck up and can sentence him to a terrible death.

_We don't talk about the water-making incident._

After four months, he's not surprised his thoughts keep wandering away, but it doesn't bode well for how long rescue might take. 

If this is four months in, he doesn't want to know what he'll look like in another four months.

Ergo, a therapist.

"In other news," Joe says quietly, trying to put himself back into his body, reel his mind back into the present. "There's been a request for me: they want me to pose for a picture on the next transmission." He grins, forcefully shoving his darker thoughts to the back of his mind.

"I'm debating between 'High School Senior Photo Shoot,'" he leans one elbow on an imaginary pillar and hooks his other thumb into imaginary belt loops, smiling smugly, _"or,_ 'Coquettish Innocent-'" he turns his back to the camera, looking over his shoulder coyly as he bites his thumb suggestively.

He can't help but laugh as he gives a flirty wink, cheeks flushing as he turns back to the camera with an indulgent smile. 

"But I'm just not sure how that will translate with the spacesuit on. I'm sure Nicky and the crew would love it, obviously, but it'd probably just look like me jabbing a thumb to my visor like I'm a baby trying to suck my thumb. Which is not the sexy image I'm trying to give off. So I'd probably have to be more overt with my posing, which, once again, will be decently hard with a very bulky, unsexy spacesuit." 

A screen beeps off to the side, and Joe jumps in surprise and promptly laughs at himself for startling. 

"Ah! That's the other thing. One big bonus of communication is that I get email now! It makes me feel like I'm back in the '90s, amazed by the simple idea of email."

He pauses and holds up a hand to his mouth as if to impart a secret, stage whispering: "For those of you too young to get that joke, my dinosauric old ass is referring to when email first came out and we all collectively lost our shit." He smiles widely, laughing at himself as he ignores the dark thoughts reminding him that no one's watching these videos, no one even knows he's making them, it's all meaningless. 

"Anyways, just like on the primary ship, I get data dumps too. Not just from friends and family, which I love immensely. If you must know, I re-read Nicky's every time I go to bed. I read Andy's and Quynh's when I wake up, Nile's and Booker's in the afternoon when I need a pick me up. Well, to be fair, I read them whenever the fuck I want, which is quite often. ...Sometimes I imagine that as I'm reading Nicky's messages, he's out there reading mine at the same time. That in some way we are connected even more than normal in those moments, that our words are our hearts and I can feel his soft and beating in my hands, cradle it close to my own and feel his love like the warmth of the sun."

That somehow, he can feel Nicky in the room with him, can feel him smiling and leaning against his side, can hear him speaking the words of his message, words warping with his accent, with his wide smile, with kisses pressed to Joe's cheek. That when he reads Nicky's sweet words, his declarations of love, his tender promises, he can feel Nicky murmuring them against his lips, the warmth of his breath, the brush of lips and touches of tongue.

_My heart yearns more and more every day, my moon._

Yet, he is unable to do anything about the situation. And knowing it, all he can do is keep moving forward, keep pushing through the days.

"Where was I? Messaging, oh yes! Mission control also sends me messages from the public. Rock stars, athletes, famous scientists, the President." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "The coolest one is actually from my alma mater, the University of Chicago- I know, I know, only the serious nerds go there, but I'll let you in on a secret, I happen to _be_ one of those serious nerds. It's shocking, I know. I had you totally fooled." 

He laughs lightly before pursing his lips, eyes going dark. "Anyways, they decided, well, more like, _tried_ to tell me that once you grow crops somewhere, that's officially 'colonizing' the place." He glares. "But here in the _al-Kaysani/di Genova household,_ we don't subscribe to imperialist bullshit like that. Even though no one- or any sentient life we can find- lives on this planet, going around 'claiming' planets and lands sets a disgusting precedence and a continuation of a bloody, shameful history we don't need." 

Joe rubs a hand down his face, giving a weary grin. His thoughts do certainly run away from him.

"Sorry, that got away from me. As usual. The end point is that I haven't colonized mars, and never will. Instead, I have taken an involuntary stay-cation from a scientific exploration, which I hope dearly does not lead to earth exploiting mars in the future, but we all know that's a pipe dream if ever there was one." 

_And yet, aren't I complicit in that if I'm part of the crew going there to explore it's suitability?_

_Or, as is the case, is this not a Joe-solvable problem, and not even a problem technically, but instead a large, overarching societal force that is rooted in many different structures that requires the complete dissolvement of how society operates for any chance of dismantling this one area?_

His thoughts are drifting away again, and he knows that soon he will be dragged away with them. 

It's time to end his video apparently, time to try and see if he can keep himself in his body just a bit longer. He shakes his head, resigned, and pastes on a large smile.

"And with that depressing ending, let's have some music!" He hits a button on a screen laid into the wall. Muted electric guitar and drums begin to play. High-pitched voices singing almost indistinguishable words join along, and he can feel the beat pounding in his body. He laughs and shimmies his shoulders to the music, beginning to sing-scream along with the lyrics:

"Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man: NO TIME TO TALK!"

* * *

  
The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the mars landscape. It won't get dark for another hour or two, and he's done most of his important duties for the day.

Including the photo shoot. 

Which was the best part of the day. 

Well, ground control losing their shit at the present moment is also a highlight of the day. 

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [15:35]: Joe, I have Lykon, Jay, and Meta here with me.**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [15:35]: It's about your picture.**

**PATHFINDER [15:37]: You guys like it? I had to wait for the sun to be in the right place to get the perfect shot**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [15:39]: Jay wants me to tell you she didn't 'goddamn ask for the fucking Fonz holding a stupid ass sign,' she asked you for a picture she could use for publicity without you 'fucking around and make us look bad.'**

**PATHFINDER [15:43]: I take it she didn't like it? I can understand that, the sun _was_ a bit off, I did try my best though**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [15:47]: Joe. Please.**

**PATHFINDER [15:50]: You think I have the time to pose for a picture? Or that I necessarily care what it looks like?**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [15:54]: I know, I tried to tell her that she should be grateful to have gotten a picture at all, but she says she 'didn't ask for fucking-Happy-Days.' She wants a picture of your face**

**PATHFINDER [15:55]: Well, I could take off my helmet, but then I'd, you know, die in the vacuum of space.**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [15:58]: Thanks Joe. Wouldn't have worked that one out ourselves.**

**PATHFINDER [15:59]: You're welcome Copley <3**

**PATHFINDER [16:05]: I aim to please**

**PATHFINDER [16:13]: It's my aim in life**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [16:22]: Okay, Lykon says we're using the picture when we announce the rescue operation. Meta says we're still on schedule to get you supplies next year during the Hohmann Transfer window; it'll be tight, but we'll make it**

**PATHFINDER [16:28]: Thanks, Meta! Glad to hear it. I'm looking forward to anything Not Potatoes to eat. That and I suppose the stuff I'll need to survive**

**PATHFINDER [16:28]: But probably the Not Potatoes most**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [16:33]: The nine month travel time means you'll get the probe on sol 868. Botany estimates your crops will last until sol 912.**

**PATHFINDER [16:35]: They can go fuck themselves, I know what I'm doing**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [16:38]: Joe. You gotta stop telling Botany to go fuck themselves. They're doing their jobs, and that doesn't include listening to you shit talk them.**

**PATHFINDER [16:42]: Tell them to stop questioning my decisions, then I won't have to do that anymore**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [16:45]: Stop it, Joe. We can't have any miscommunication between you guys, even if they aren't as smart as you. The margin isn't big enough for it.**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [16:46]: You have 912 sols worth of food, and you get the supplies on sol 868. And that's only if nothing goes wrong. I don't have to remind you that nothing ever goes perfectly in space**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [16:50]: Joe?**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [16:53]: Still with us?**

**PATHFINDER [16:56]: I've managed to survive this far, and almost everything's gone wrong, I'd like to think I'd manage somehow**

* * *

Joe shuts the electrical box with a sharp click, taking a step back from the outside wall of the HAB to look at his work. 

His headlamps on the side of his helmet and the stars are the only light he gets at night, besides the HAB's spinning search light, and he carefully double checks the box closure and the support lines pulled taught from the wall to the spikes buried in the dusty soil. 

Everything looks good, and at this point he's ready to go back inside, get out of the freezing cold, and fall face first into bed. He slowly treks back to the airlock, already imagining taking off his suit, watering the crops, and wrapping himself in blankets to become a warm burrito. 

The airlock is bright and familiar as he steps in, the heavy door thudding close solidly, and he pushes the large door lever down, beginning the pressurization sequence. 

Maybe he'll even have something that _isn't_ potatoes; treat himself, you know? 

Before he can even think about what to have, the malfunction alarm begins to blare, red lights flashing as there's a sudden loud hiss of air escaping.   
  
Sirens screaming, he quickly turns.

There's a leak in the canvas wall, a small hole that suddenly splits open right before his eyes and before he can prepare, he feels himself thrown into the air, the airlock breaching and _exploding_ all at once. 

He's suddenly weightless, ears ringing loudly as the entire airlock is blown away from the HAB in a screech of metal and tearing of fabric The alarm is blaring, and his screams fill the air as he desperately tries to grab onto _something_ to hold on to. 

He slams into walls as the airlock tumbles over and over in the air, as it cannonballs almost forty meters through the air, everything just flashes of dark save the flickering of his headlamps in the unlit airlock. He's like a ragdoll in a washing machine, tumbling over and over and smashing into walls.

Each thud of his body makes his head go fuzzier and fuzzier, the alarm coming from far away, his body feeling almost disconnected besides the hot, sharp pain, as he still tries in vain to grab on to something, but his fingers aren't responding anymore, and his head keeps banging into his visor over and over. He thinks he hears the sound of something shattering, but it's drowned out by the cacophony around him.

With a large, resounding slam that jolts his body to the core, the airlock finally crashes with a slam to the ground, momentum keeping it sliding farther across the dirt for another fifteen meters until it comes to a stop, the noise echoing through the dark, empty, barren landscape. 

He blacks out.

* * *

Harsh, panicked breathing fills his ringing ears, along with a shrill alarm going off. 

Joe struggles to stay conscious, groaning in disorientation and trying to blink away his dizziness. He can feel blood trickling down his face, and he fights against the instinct to just lay down. To close his eyes and slip back into nothingness.

Something's wrong. 

Something's _really_ wrong. 

He can still hear the air hissing out as it escapes the airlock, and he stumbles to his feet wildly, already looking for the breach.

**oxygen level critical. oxygen level critical.  
**

Oh no, oh no oh no oh no. 

He knows that alarm, he knows that one, _/fuck, it can't be-/_

That's not the airlock alarm. 

That's his suit.

There's a leak in his _suit,_ there's a leak and he's running out of air. 

By the time his brain starts to work again, he can almost see through his dizziness that it's his helmet that's breached. 

His visor is shattered, a large hole with long cracks running outward taking up his entire field of view. 

"Fuck fuck fuck shit shit," he slurs, trying to read his oxygen level on his arm computer.

**13.5% oxygen level.**

Dazedly, he runs his hands over his visor, trying to take it all in but his thoughts are clouded and he's running out of _air-_

Somehow, his thoughts connect and he remember he has his tool kit with him. His hands shake as he paws unsuccessfully at the roll of duct tape hanging from his hip. 

**oxygen level critical. oxygen level critical.  
**

The sound of air escaping from his suit drowns out his panting breaths; all he can hear is the air, the alarms, the ringing in his ears, and what sounds like Nicky screaming at him from far away. 

He manages to rip a long piece of tape off, and hastily pastes it over the hole in his visor, pressing tightly so that it seals the cracks, but it's not enough.

He grabs another piece, trying to pull it straight but his hands fumble and it tears and he needed that piece of tape he really fucking needed it and he's freaking out and he goes to grab another piece of tape but the torn tape is still stuck on his gloves and he can't shake it off and he's crying now but he manages to rip another piece of tape off and slam it against a large crack in his visor, the hissing noise changing pitch as he desperately puts more and more tape over his visor. 

**oxygen level five percent. oxygen level five percent.  
**

In his panic, he manages to slap a piece of tape over the last crack, pressing tightly down and hoping it holds because he can't see anymore cracks and he doesn't have enough oxygen to fix things if there's another breach in his suit and he's already light headed from the lack of air and the hits his head took. 

**air pressure stable. air pressure stable.**

His eyes dart around in a frenzy, adrenaline pumping through his veins along with sharp-tinged relief. 

"Fuck fuck shit," he curses, disbelief tinging his words, unable to understand that he fixed the leak. "Alhamdullilah, Subhan Allah." 

The alarm for his suit stops ringing, and he breathes out heavily, and finally he can take in his surroundings.

He's in the darkened airlock. It's upside down, he's on the ceiling. His headlamps catch the reflection of the door. 

Stumbling over, he drops to his knees in front of the window in the door, and peers out.

It's dark, everything is cast in shadow. His headlamps barely shine through the window, and he can seem the HAB looming in the distance. It's shadowed frame resembles an abandoned skeleton, rising from the dirt as if an old, dying god has been awakened. Debris litters the outside, plastic, fabric, paper, metal, anything. 

He chokes on his panic- the HAB- it's all _gone-_

Everything, his life, his crops, _it's all gone._

He has to take a deep breath to fend off his rising dread, terror, panic- this is his death certificate, signed and delivered. 

The door of the airlock groans in protest as he pushes it open, and he is immediately hit with absolute _silence._ There's no alarms, no crashing noises of the HAB settling. 

Everything is dead silent. 

He's the loudest thing on the entire planet at the moment, and the realization slams into him like a freighter. 

He painfully lurches to the unlit, gaping maw of what used to be the airlock opening, and he feels like he's floating over his body, like he can't feel his head pounding, the blood running down his face, the aches of his limbs and what must be numerous bruises scattered around his body. He can't hear anything except the pounding of his heart and panting breaths. 

Stepping in, the first thing to greet him is the sight of ripped tarps and battered walls. His headlamps barely illuminate the back walls, and he fumbles at the wall alongside the doorway, hands closing tightly around the extra flashlight. Turning it on, bright light fills his vision. 

His crops.

_His crops._

No no no no no. 

Not this please not this.

"No no no no, please, no, please no," he begs, unable to look away from his crops. 

Everything is covered in a layer of ice, reflecting the light back to him, surrounding his plants and every surface of the HAB. 

His plants, his crops, his _food,_ all of it, are frozen stalks of lifeless green sticking up from the icy ground. Row after row, he stumbles through, and every plant has been flash frozen. He can't believe it, he can't even grasp what has happened. 

He barely feels the pain as he falls to his knees, gently reaching out to a frozen plant. He tries to be carefully with his bulky gloves, but it ultimately doesn't matter, the plant crumbles and breaks in his palm.

"No no no, please, no, please don't do this to me, I _can't-"_

His face falls, and he barely catches himself before he starts truly sobbing, and he forces himself to swallow and blink away the tears- he can't break down right now, he can't. He has to survive first, has to try and get somewhere that isn't the destroyed HAB turned graveyard. 

He stands up and looks around in devastation, biting his lip to stop it from trembling but it's no use. 

His entire crop is dead.

There's no saving them.

The HAB is ruined.

The entire airlock is meters away, completely separate from the HAB. 

And he's in a broken suit with minimal oxygen. 

He's barely holding it together. 

"Okay, okay, okay," he chants, trying to put together thoughts. Trying to figure out what he needs to do next, what is the most important thing he needs to start on immediately. 

It's hard to even think rationally.

His mind flashes back to his training days, the sound of his crew's laughter and Keane's terse voice ringing in his ears: 

_Breathing is always the number one goal. If you aren't breathing, you die. If you're dead, none of the other problems matter. Breathing first, then everything else. Do I make myself clear? Al-Kaysani, I said 'Do I make myself **clear?** ' **"**  
_

"Sir yes, sir," Joe mutters automatically under his breath, the words drilled into his head for hours and hours are easy to repeat even when he's barely coherent.

Memory-Keane is right. He needs to worry about breathing first. 

Not the HAB, not his crops, not about his certain death by starvation. 

Breathing. 

Gazing around, he spots what he needs. 

A new spacesuit. 

Each crunch of frozen plant under his boot is agony, but he locks his eyes on the suits and focuses solely on getting there. 

The suit and helmet are covered in ice just like everything else, and he holds tight to both as he pulls them from the shelf. He ignores everything around him, ignores the devastation of the only way he was going to survive, and exits the HAB.

He doesn't know how, but he manages to safely make his way to the rover, the trip a blur in his memory. Everything's a blur. 

He throws the suit and flashlight into the rover cabin and manages to pull himself in and fall in the seat. He slams the button to pressurize the rover, only taking off his helmet when he hears the " **pressure stable** " message. 

Fingers sliding over the catches, he hastily yanks his helmet off, taking in deep breaths of the rover's air. 

Air never tastes as good as it does after an oxygen scare. 

He can feel himself shaking, the tremors racking his body as he finally rests for a moment. He can barely take it, his thoughts are still spinning around his head even as he tries to focus, tries to figure out the next steps. 

His hands are freezing, he suddenly realizes. And it's with a shock that he notices he can feel his body again, he can feel the coldness and the excruciating _pain_ blanketing his entire body. 

Before he can think it through, he's taking off his gloves and rubbing his hands together, trying to warm them up even as he sits in the cold rover. Hoping for warmth, he tries blowing on them, but his breath just puffs out in clouds. 

It doesn't matter, it really doesn't, it's just his hands, but he can't warm them and it's too much it's the last straw, it's the thousandth straw after the break nothing's going right everything's terrible and certainly there's no hope now and he _snaps._

He's screaming, cursing, pounding his fists into the rover's ceiling and walls, kicking and screaming screaming _screaming-_

It's all terrible and his anger and despair are consuming entirely and he keeps screaming and punching over and over as he's swallowed helplessly by rage and frustration and anguish and devastation-

And between one scream and the next, he finds himself bent over sobbing his heart out, throat aching with the sounds of his keening whines and choking cries, tears falling from his face and covered in snot. He moans and wails and feels nothing except grief and sorrow, desolation and agony-

His head is dizzy, pounding over and over and he guesses it never really stopped pounding since the airlock explosion but only now does he think he'll actually pass out from it, while he's choking on his sobs and drowning in his tears and snot-

He wants to pass out. 

He wants the darkness to claim him and take him away from everything. 

He wants a respite, break in his awful life where he doesn't have to think or worry. 

If he closed his eyes, it would be so easy to slip into unconsciousness. 

_Nicky._

Only the thought of Nicky and the dim blinking of the rover's screens before him keep him from willfully slipping away. 

_Nicky._

He has to report this. Has to report what's happened. 

_He just wants to talk to Nicky, to his Nicolo. To feel safe and loved, just for a moment. See the warmth in Nicolo's eyes as he smiles at Joe, as he tenderly caresses his cheek._

He stares, unseeing, at the blinking of the lights. 

* * *

He has no idea how long he sits frozen in his seat, but enough time has passed that the rover has started to warm up finally. He carefully levers himself upright. 

_Nicky._

He has to tell them, tell Nicky. 

After Joe's survival not being shared with him for months, Nicky needs to know what's happened immediately, even if it's as good as a signed death certificate.

He keeps the image of Nicky- smiling softly at him, bathed in sunlight, pressed against his side, quietly talking with him- in the front of his mind as he starts to type.

**PATHFINDER [22:37]: Nicky, my love. I love you more than anything, and I wish I could be there to hold you when you get this. I'm sorry for the pain this will cause, and know that my heart is breaking just as painfully as yours will.**

**PATHFINDER [22:37]: My moon**

**PATHFINDER [22:38]: The crops are dead.  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't wait to see what u all think!!! <3 <3 i hope yyou all liked it <3
> 
> ppl who commented on the last chapter, don't worry, i'm going to reply to them in the next few days- they rly helped this month as i looked back on them and felt good and supported
> 
> for my other fics incomplete, i'm probs gonna just focus on this one until i finish, and then move to my other ones when i have more ability to do so, but i've not abandoned them at all
> 
> Hohmann transfer window, as i looked up, refers to when earth's orbit and mar's orbit line up and the trip from mars to earth is the easiest. it only happens every 26 months. here's what i read https://www.planetary.org/space-images/hohmann-transfer-orbit


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone :D  
> i feel like this might be one of the longer chapters? only bc i don't remember sending this much time editing before lol  
> i hope you all like it, <3
> 
> tws: mentions of his need to ration food, mentions of the concept of sanity/sane (no ableism), refs to smut in malta (brief and not descriptive)

They find Nicky in front of the window, wrapped in a blanket and eyes reflecting the starlight. 

He doesn't react to them.

Booker sits down next to him, pulling Nicky into a sideways hug, gently brushing the tears from his cheeks. He murmurs softly into his hair, "Cara mio, what happened?" 

He doesn't expect an answer, not when Nicky's shut down like this, like the beginning of their trip home when they all thought Joe was dead and left behind. He'll sit there for days if they let him, and already Booker is aching in empathy. 

"Nicolo," Andy says softly, brushing her hand through his hair as she steps next to him, "what happened? Did something happen with Joe?" 

Slowly, she watches as the blanket falls away from his hands, showing him tightly gripping a tablet in his lap. Booker makes a soothing noise, gently moving to cover Nicky's fingers and pry them away from the tablet. Once extricated, he hands the tablet to Andy before wrapping Nicky in his arms and the blanket once more. 

Looking down, Andy opens the tablet and sees Nicky's message center, with a message from Joe open:

**PATHFINDER [22:37]: My moon, the crops are dead.  
**

* * *

"Okay," Andy straightens her shoulders from where she sits at the large table, eyeing her crew around her. Booker and Nicky are still cuddled together, Nile and Quynh pressed against their sides, Andy herself sitting just a small bit away with Quynh's legs wrapped around hers.

Connected. 

"Okay," she tries again. "Here's what mission control has sent us," she clears her throat and begins to read from the tablet:

"'The complete loss of pressure in the HAB caused the majority of the water to boil off. Any bacteria that had survived died in the sub-zero temperatures when exposed to the atmosphere.'" 

She swallows thickly, trying to stay calm as everyone around her sharply inhales and leans forward. 

Everyone except Nicky, who sits as still as stone, nonreactive. 

"'The good news is that he can still eat the potatoes he has, he just can't grow any more. It should last him about 200 sols. The rations get him to sol 409, so with the potatoes he has left he can stretch it to 609.'" 

"But Boss-" Nile interrupts, shakily trying to keep from crying. "-that's not enough. Sol 609 isn't far enough-" 

"I know," Andy says, trying not to show her own frantic worry on her face. She has to be strong for her team. 

Quynh puts an hand on Nile's arm in support, and Andy smiles tightly at her wife. 

"They're going to try and launch the supplies sooner- but that also means it changes the travel time. We'd no longer being using the orbital window- it's estimated it would take about 414 days for the trip." 

_If nothing goes wrong,_ a traitorous part of her mind whispers, and she can't help but feel the truth of the words. Even if it's the pessimist in her that's shoving her worst fears in her face- nothing goes perfectly in space. 

She glances at Booker; he has the same dark look in his eyes. He knows it just as well as she does, as everyone does. Nile knows it, has had it trained into her, but she's still young, hasn't seen all the terrible things that can happen in space, how every action can effortlessly lead to a fatal mistake. 

"It'll work, Boss," Booker says quietly, his words strong but eyes grim. 

She nods, knowing that Booker will always understand her. He can't promise her that.

She turns back to the tablet.

"Okay. It's sol 135 now. They will need about 13 days to finish everything and run the inspections. This means that Meta and everyone has 47 days to make the probe." 

This time it's Quynh who gasps, causing Nile to startle. Andy and Booker both grimace before looking at Quynh, already knowing what's coming.

"Quynh?" Nile questions hesitantly, squeezing Quynh's hand. 

Taking a deep breath, Quynh squeezes back. "It normally takes a bit longer to make a probe like that-" she smiles weakly, "but I know Meta can pull it off." 

Nile squints at her, knowing there's something Quynh's leaving out. 

"If anyone can, it'll be Meta," Booker adds, gently running an hand up and down Nicky's arm where he's still sat surrounded by Booker. 

Nile glances at him and back to Quynh, thoughts turning as she tries to figure out what they aren't telling her. 

Andy waits patiently to see what Nile does, and is unsurprised when Nile finally straightens and looks directly at her. 

"Andy, what am I missing?" Her tone books no argument, and Andy is proud of her in that moment for being willing to stand up and face the unknown and her fears, to know all she can about a situation instead of trying to keep herself safe or dependent on others. 

She's growing into a remarkable astronaut, a remarkable woman.

Joe would be proud. 

He _will_ be proud. 

"Normally," Andy begins, looking directly at Nile so that she knows Andy is being completely open, "it normally takes, at _minimum,_ six months to build a probe like that." 

The silence rings out, Nile's astonishment obvious to everyone as she processes the news. That essentially the Guard has told Meta to build a probe that normally takes at least six _months_ to build, and told her to build it in 47 _days._

Andy can't help the twinge of pain in her heart as Nile slowly moves from astonishment to disbelief to grim determinedness. 

"Okay," Nile rasps out, setting her shoulders, "okay." 

* * *

Shutting the door behind her, Nile tries to smile at Andy and Quynh as she sits down at Andy's desk chair, giving them the space to sprawl out on Andy's very very small bed. 

"So..." Nile says, folding her arms in self-consciousness. "The supply mission." 

Quynh smiles back in understanding.

Nothing is going to plan.

Sure, it hadn't gone to plan since they had to evacuate mars and leave Joe behind, but it seemed to just keep getting _worse._

"That supply mission," Quynh replies, quirking an eyebrow. Andy beside her just looks tired, slumped back against the wall with her head leaning on Quynh's shoulder. 

Nile doesn't break eye contact, but has had enough staring contests to know that Quynh will undoubtedly win. If Nile wants to know more and talk about everything, she's going to have to bring up her questions first. 

Andy grins tiredly when Nile breaks first. 

"Fine," Nile huffs, "do you think it's going to be enough? The whole supply mission, the timetable- like, what's the actual chance it's all going to go fine?" 

Andy and Quynh are quiet as they think it over, but Nile can tell it's not them thinking over the calculations and probabilities. No, this is them thinking over what to share with her, how best to break the news to her in ways that she can handle. 

She used to resent it, resent that it felt like they were treating her as a child and keeping things from her, not letting her in on all the information. 

She cringes to admit that it took her too long to catch on that it wasn't them treating her as incapable- no, they were adapting to how she learned, how she thought. In the same way that Andy always thought over how best to deliver hard news to the crew at once, how Booker took in information better through reading packets and blue prints, or how Joe needed to hear info at least twice before he got it all. 

It's Andy who speaks first. 

"In theory, it's all technically possible. In reality, I'm not sure." 

Quynh jumps in before Nile can begin to panic properly. "What Andy means, is that, if anyone can make it happen, Meta can. If anyone has the luck to have this work, it's Joe." She sighs tiredly, her eyes turning wet. "However, the first rule of space always catches you at the worst of times."

_Nothing ever goes perfectly in space._

* * *

It takes time before Nicky tunes back into the world. All he knows is that he's been safe with Booker. 

Ever since he got the news.

Joe's crops are dead. 

How do they even come back from this? How does Joe pull this one off? 

He doesn't know. He's been blissfully blank. 

And he's almost ashamed of himself for tuning out, for tuning out when Joe needs him, when his crew has Joe to worry about too. 

He's been with Booker. And now he still is. 

When he blinks back into reality, he realizes he's sitting at the edge of Booker's bed, and that what had drawn his attention was the sound of the door opening and closing. 

"Ah, Nicolo- back with us?" 

Booker's voice is soft, and Nicky is able to glance at him- he has dark bags under his eyes, his hair is limp and flops in front of his eyes, and his shoulders sag as if the weight of the world is upon him.

He manages a small nod to Booker, even manages to hold onto one of the warm mugs Booker places in his hands. 

"Some tea, one of Quynh's," he admits with a tired smile, coming to sit next to Nicky's side. 

The tea tastes floral almost, with a bit of a smoky after taste, Nicky finds. He isn't actually sure he enjoys it, but it is warm and it is a taste and it keeps him grounded in the present. Keeps him in his body as he and Booker continue to sit side by side quietly sipping their tea. 

Booker doesn't look surprised when Nicky hesitantly starts to talk. 

"I- it's Yusuf. I just, what now, Book?" He rasps, letting his thoughts fall out of his mouth as Booker just hums in assurance. "His crops, they are all dead. And he does not have enough to make it all the way- the rations schedule is already dangerous enough." 

"Mhmm." 

He runs a hand through his hair. "Now he's going to be pushing rations further, and it's not going to be enough. He will technically _have_ food to last, but it is not enough to sustain him. My friend- what do we do? What can I even do from here?" 

Booker takes another sip of his tea, blinking slowly.

"Nicolo, do you think Joe expects you to solve his crop situation?" 

Nicky almost chokes on his tea. "What? What do you mean 'solve his crop situation'?"

Booker looks turns to look at him, gaze piercing. "Do you think Joe is just sitting on mars, waiting for you to come up with an idea to save him? Do you think if you don't help him in some unfathomable way, that he will just give up on getting back to you?" 

And even though they feel like rhetorical questions, Booker's words catch against something in Nicky, stick to him as if they were there all along inside him, just waiting to be uncovered. 

Is that what Nicky thinks? Is he scared that if he doesn't help Joe, that he'll be stuck there? That Joe will just stop trying to get back to him? What can Nicky, with all his knowledge about medicine and the like, offer Joe in his survival? He could tell Joe that the rations he has aren't enough, that the human body needs more food then he'll have- but Joe already knows all that. Joe knows his body will be pushed past the limits, that if anything happens it's only him out there. 

Is this just Nicky beating himself up for not being there with Joe, for not knowing he was alive, for not being stranded together? 

"Because it sounds to me," Booker continues gently, "that there's not much you or even _we_ can do to help Joe. At least not physically. We can be there for him, talk with him, love him, do our best to keep him sane, but short of miraculously having enough fuel and another MAV to turn around and pick him up, we really can't do much." He reaches out and softly tucks Nicolo's hair behind his ear. "And none of that is your fault. It's just what's happened." 

* * *

"How do you deal with it?" 

Nile's question doesn't seem to surprise Quynh and Andy, it doesn't even surprise Nile herself. Most of her time as an astronaut has been learning how to live with situations and things that normal people don't have to.

How to deal with being stuck in a spaceship for months and years on end with the same five people. How to safely explore new planets, repair things in zero gravity. How to deal with losing a crew member, to deal with leaving _behind_ a crew member. 

How to deal with being in _space_ as a whole.

"The same way as always, kid," Andy says, not unkindly, "Trusting that everyone is doing their best, and that if it's our time, it's our time." 

"Isn't that pessimistic? Just a little?" Nile doesn't mean to snap, but the day has been long and trying. "You won't even like, fight for your life- just going to let it happen?" 

Andy's face hardens, and she sits up from Quynh's shoulder, planting her feet solidly.

"Nile. We are doing our best to get Joe back- accepting that death happens doesn't mean we're giving up on fighting for life- it means knowing we did our best and that you can't prevent death. Not forever." 

Nile can feel her cheeks heating up, already ashamed of her outburst. She didn't mean it like that, of course they're all looking for Joe and not letting him _go,_ it's just- when Andy said it, something in her just snapped, it just hit a little to close to home. It felt like all the platitudes she had heard when her dad died- _oh, he had a good life, he's in a better place, he's an angel for god now, it's just what happens-_

Fuck she hated it all so much. Still hates it. 

"Andy, I'm sorry." She makes sure to look Andy in the eye as she apologizes. "That was uncalled for-"

"We're all processing, squirt, it's not your-" 

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I get to be an ass to you or lash out. I'm sorry I did, it got a little to close to some of my own trauma shit. I won't do it again." Nile breathes out. 

Andy just quirks her lips in that almost smile of hers, and Nile knows it's okay. Knows that Andy meant it before when she didn't take it personally, but Nile's mom always taught her better than that and to apologize when she messes up. 

Quynh breaks the calm silence, voice low. "Time for bed then, folks. Nile, you're welcome to bring your mattress in here on the floor again if you want." 

"Nah, I'm good thanks. I think I'm gonna go back to my room tonight."

"Sure thing," Quynh says, already moving to change into PJs. 

And though the room is cramped and small, and it takes Nile two steps to the door, Andy follows her and stops Nile in the hall with a hand on her shoulder. 

Andy says nothing, just gives her a stern look that Nile already knows means _don't be an idiot and beat yourself up over this._ Usually Joe and Nicky get that look the most, but everyone's familiar with it.

"I won't, Andy." Nile smiles softly, closing her eyes in comfort when Andy presses a quick kiss to her forehead. When she opens her eyes, Andy's already gone back into the room, the door closed, leaving Nile alone with her thoughts in the empty hallway. 

* * *

"I hate it." Nicky states petulantly. 

Booker snorts in amusement. "Don't we all." He puts down his cup on the desk nearby, doing the same when Nicky passes his mug over as well. "Life's a bitch." 

This time it's Nicky who snorts, gladly letting Booker's jokes ease the tension in the room. 

"Life is very much a bitch, right now," Nicky agrees. He leans his head on Booker's shoulder, enjoying the familiar comfort. 

He's going to try harder from now on. No more shutting down if he can help it- or at least not as long as before, or maybe only at certain times. Joe's not dead, Joe needs all the help he can get. Even if that just means Nicky loving him as hard as possible. 

If Nicky can do nothing but love and support Joe, then he will love him more than there are stars in the sky. More than the distance that separates them. More than the happy memories he has of them together. 

He will love Yusuf as if he knows no other thing in his life.

But first, there's something he's been meaning to get around to. 

"Hey Book," he pulls his head off Booker's shoulder and smiles when Booker turns to look at him in askance.

"Yeah?" 

"Are you ready for your appointment of Mandated Counseling?" He asks cheekily, happy when it causes Booker to laugh loudly at the joke. 

'Mandated Counseling' was a real thing in their program- which they all hated going to. Not because they didn't need counseling, but because the people at Old Guard were all terrible counselors, so bad that they had a bet going on if they even had licenses to practice. They all dreaded it, and somehow it had become a joke within the group, that the counselors were so bad at it that they could do better among their family. It is especially important with Booker and Andy. 

They were the most silent and internal people on the team, holding feelings inside them and letting them run around unchecked. If they weren't asked directly about something bothering them, they wouldn't bring it up unless absolutely necessary. 

So the rest of the team had taken to the cause of reminding them that they cared about them, were there to listen if they ever wanted to talk or complain. And each time someone started speaking with a posh accent, saying 'Mandated Counseling,' it became a code word for Booker and Andy to talk or tell people what they needed in that moment, no holds barred.

It helped that the posturing and mockery made them laugh each time. 

"Nicolo..." Booker protests, already trying to get out of it. But Nicky isn't going to let him go that easily, not when Booker has been taking care of him so much these last few weeks. Not when Nicky can't remember the last time he's seen Booker have a Mandated Counseling time. 

He has done wrong by his brother.

Nicky has been grieving for Joe, yes. He had shutdown and needed a lot of care. But that didn't mean that everyone else didn't need care too. 

Nicky isn't beating himself up for not being able to comfort Booker at the same time, but it means that now that he has the ability to take care of Booker in return, he's going to do his best. 

"Sebastien," Nicky says softly, palming the side of Booker's face. "It's my turn now, it will be okay. I am right here, I will take care of you just like you take care of me, remember?" 

"I remember," Booker says quietly, eyes already watering, and it breaks Nicky's heart to see that Booker has been so close to breaking for this long, that even the mere suggestion of someone taking care of him, of letting him _rest,_ is enough to have him on the verge of tears. 

"My dear brother," Nicky pulls Booker close to him, tucking Booker under his chin and wrapping him in a tight hug. He feels the moment that Booker finally breaks- feels the harsh gasp of breath against his skin, the hot tears pressing into his shoulders, Booker's body beginning to shake with muffled sobs.

"There, just like that. So good, I have you now. I have you, Sebastien." He gently pulls Booker with him as he lays down, Booker splaying on top of him while still clutching him tightly, sobbing greater. "I know, I know. I am here, I love you. It will be okay, we will get through this." He gently runs a hand up and down Booker's back, closes his eyes as his heart breaks for his brother weeping in his arms.

So much sadness, all tucked away inside of his brother, weighing his shoulders and darkening his eyes. Booker holds the most sorrow in him out of everyone in the team. Sorrow that tints the world differently, that Nicky recognizes well from his own life before he met his family. 

"I have you, brother," he whispers, throat tight as he continues to shake alongside Booker, tears falling down his own face now, "I will be right here, I will help put you back together. So good, you are so good. You take care of me so well, and I will always do the same for you." He doesn't know what Booker is thinking right now, can guess at what he's feeling. But he knows which words Booker needs to hear when this happens with them. When Nicky is Booker's anchor in the storm, when Booker lets himself be pulled under into his grief and pain, choking on the water and salt burning his eyes, knowing only that he will wash up into Nicky's arms, who will always be there for him, always piece him back together. 

And so he says all the things Booker needs to hear:

_"I love you, brother. I am right here, I will be right here when you come back, I won't ever leave. You are a good man, I am lucky to know you. You are doing all you can, I am proud of you. I will be right here, do not worry. The storm will pass, and I will be here, waiting for you to bring back the blue skies."_

* * *

"Alright everyone!" Nile yells excitedly, "I'm messaging Joe now!" 

Ever since they've been able to message Joe back and forth, everyone's spirits are higher, even Joe's. Their family is back together again, as close as they can be for now. 

"Have you considered that maybe he's tired of hearing from you?" Booker smirks, gently punching her shoulder as he walks past. 

"Have you considered that maybe he _loves_ my messages the most?" 

Quynh snorts. "Ah, of course. I knew there was something going on between you two." 

Nicky looks up from his book, gasping loudly. "Mi hai fatto male! How could I have missed this? My man, leaving me for another woman- I am ruined!"

Andy swats him upside the head as everyone breaks out into laughter, smiling fondly and nudging shoulders. 

Talking to Joe has really helped everyone, especially Nicky. 

"I know, I took your man," Nile smiles before turning back to the large monitor set up Quynh normally runs. "So I get to message him first." 

"Of course," Booker demures, raising his cup in salute. 

"Why thank you, Booker." She begins to type.

"'Dear Joe, I'm so glad you accepted my proposal- would you prefer a spring or fall wedding? Personally, I prefer winter, but that would only be to annoy the rest of the crew. Also, it's a lot roomier here now that we left you behind- which was our evil plan all along, of course- we have to do your chores and tasks. But it's only botany, so it's not even real science. How's mars, nerd-boy?'"

"'Nerd-boy,'" Quynh laughs under her breath, idly stirring her mug of coffee. Waiting for the messages is always the hardest- not as hard as what SATCOM had to wait for when they first began talking, apparently- but it takes a few minutes for their messages to transmit from where they are. Perks of still being space. 

"Hmmm, didn't we get that as a t-shirt for him during training?" Andy muses. 

"No," Nicky replies, "that was his costume when he had to host the children's tours- it was purple, with a cape and everything." 

Booker snorts, "Ah yes, I remember that. I still have pictures hidden for blackmail." 

"As if Joe would ever be embarrassed by that," Quynh chimes in, kissing Andy on the cheek when Andy nods hers head in agreement.

"She's right, Joe wore that costume with pride." Nicky smiles. "However, I would love copies of the pictures, Book."   
  
Book nods at him, and Nicky goes back to his book, smiling fondly. 

"Hey, he wrote back!" Nile's yell breaks through their conversation, all attention swiveling back to her as she reads out Joe's reply:

"He says, 'I'm partial to a fall wedding, I think the leaves are a very nice color then. (Don't tell Nicky I said that though, he really liked our summer wedding)-'" Nile stops reading to immediately look to Nicky, impatiently waiting for his input before she continues on. 

He smiles fondly. "You all know this, he said he didn't care what season it was, and I liked summer. So we had a summer wedding, simple." 

"Uh-huh, totally, I'm sure he did," Nile says, already turning back to the screen. "Okay, continuing on. 'Yeah, how's the ship? Cramped and claustrophobic? Every day I go outside and look at the vast horizon just because I can. Mars is fine. I accidentally blew up the HAB, but unfortunately, all of Andy's disco music survived. Well, congratulations on your evil plan, I'm sure that dust storm was hard to generate without me knowing. Also, 'not a real science'? Out here, jobs don't exist- take that capitalism! It's just me and survival, all the way. Tell Nicky I'm holding him to the prenup we signed- I'm getting that poster in the divorce, he knows which one I'm talking about.'" 

Again, Nile pauses reading to look at Nicky.

"The signed Hidden Figures poster I got him when the movie came out. It's his favorite. We saw the movie in theaters five times." 

Quynh toasts her cup. "To nerd-boy's good taste." 

Nicky rolls his eyes and goes back to his book, and Nile turns back to the computer to finish reading Joe's message. 

"'It's my favorite poster we have. Had we _actually_ written a prenup (we were too broke to need one), I definitely would've put the poster in it. Anyways. Tell everyone I said hi, Nile. I'll be sending my individual messages after this. Love you all. Hugs and kisses, your favorite botanist, Joe.'" 

* * *

**Dear Booker,**

**Yeah, I feel like bear spray would probably deter other animals that aren't bears? Like, I don't know what makes it specifically anti _bears,_ but in my mind it's probably just like pepper spray? I don't know. If it was bear spray or nothing and a rhino was charging, I'd choose bear spray first. **

**My turn: would you rather be dunked into a vat of melted fondue and then wrapped in a tortilla, or chocolate sauce and wrapped in a bendy waffle?**

**How're you holding up? Is Nicky doing alright? I know you two have things worked out taking care of each other, but are you each getting what you need? You gotta remember to put yourself first sometimes, Sebastien. (Any Mandated Counseling yet? In ironic twist of fate, would kill for some right now.)**

**Hey, do you still get the match summaries in your data dumps? Can you tell me who won the game? Thanks.**

**-Joe**

* * *

**Hey Boss,**

**I'm trying not to let it get to me, but living out the rover like I'm in my goddamn twenties again is not actually where I thought I'd be in my life at this point. Work on the HAB is going slowly, but I suppose there's nothing more important and all I have on my hands is time.**

**Andy, c'mon sis, you can't keep blaming yourself like this. That isn't how it works. You did what had to be done and I won't hear anymore of your bullshit 'should've known,' you're just as bad as Nicky, I swear.**

**How's everyone handling it? I mean, I know the answer is probably 'terrible, everything is awful, our sexy botanist is far away- whatever shall we do?' (yes, humor still works as a coping method), but truly, how is it? Are you holding up? I know you, you better be talking with Quynh. If she says you're not, she's going to be sad and then you know how her face gets, I can't stand the puppy dog eyes, no one can- don't do this to us, Andy. Just take one for the team.  
  
(Seriously, talk to me, Andy. How're you? I miss you. Even living out of the rover would be much more enjoyable with your complaining.)  
**

**All my love,**   
**Joe**

* * *

**Heya punk,**

**I'll have you know, I make this space suit look _great._ If I had the supplies, I'd've bedazzled the hell out of it by now. Imagine the helmet- I'd have to put some quippy one-liner in rhinestones just above the visor, something along the lines of: 'too gay to space' or 'all I got was this stupid helmet' or 'show me your launcher and I'll blow you away,' except those all suck or are way too long to get across in fake gems. I'll have to think of better ones. Maybe when I get home I can make them into booty shorts. Fuck yeah, would look awesome in those. I could even bedazzle the _shorts._**

**Booty shorts and bedazzling aside, how's it going? Learning anything doing my chores (ha! suck it!) about botany? I would kill for some fucking plants right now. Maybe even peas- or cauliflower? Nah, broccoli. CORN- corn. I could make tortillas. Or cornflakes? (I don't know how to make anything corn-related, but damn if I wouldn't have options.)**

**Sorry, distracted. Has Quynh been teaching you more about communications and operations? I know you were interested in learning more about her job. Same with Booker, but I know that's more so you can be smarter than him. (A worthy goal.) I hope you're remembering to listen to Andy, you can learn a lot just from watching her.**

**Anyways. Here's your next question (you'll need to consult with Nicky): completely hypothetically, let's say a man gets stranded on a planet, for example mars, and has to survive for 11 months; what one crop would you suggest? Take into account how many calories are needed by an average person, how many are expended in caring for the crop, the nutrients in the crop, the amount of resources needed to grow the crop, growth and harvest time, and how to have brought them to mars. You may need to consult Andy on crops and harvests (don't ask why she knows about farming crops), and Booker on space and resources needed to transport and grow. You can consult with Quynh, but she'll probably just tell you if anyone could eat brussels sprouts for 11 months and still be sane by the end (probably not).**

**I want to see your math and logic, so don't skimp on the details!**

**Keep your head up kid,**   
**Joe**

* * *

**Quynh,**

**Okay. Let me get this straight. So Fabio fakes his death, runs away with Naresh to Croatia, all the while Lindy (Linda? Lucy?) takes over running the hotel? And because of this, Sidhe from the grocery store can continue her money laundering business on the side, now that Nakia is out of the picture (because Fabio killed her and faked his death)?**

**Are you sure you're not just making up the plot now and fucking around with poor me stuck on mars so I can't actually contradict you?**

**I'm watching you, Ngo.**

**Always watching, Wazowski, always watching.**

**And to answer your unspoken question: I'm as good as I can be. Life's a party and I'm the pinata at this point. Mission control tried to get me to Mandated Counseling- and I'm sorry to say my life is fucked enough that I took them up on it.**

**Bad decision. They still suck ass. If anything, they've gotten worse. I don't know how, but they've done it.**

**If I wanted to be psychoanalyzed like it's the fucking '60s, I'd go watch a Hannibal movie or something.**

**Fuck Freud. What a bitch.**

**Anyways. Yeah. That's me. What about you, you get any counseling? How're you holding up, trudging through at least? Andy? Any good crew gossip?  
**

**Tiredly,**   
**Joe**

* * *

**My love,**

**Nicolo.**

**Nicolo Nicolo Nicolo, my beautiful Nicolo.**

**I miss you, as you no doubt know. As I tell you every time. I wish you were here, or, actually, I wish I was with you. My heart aches from the empty space by my side, from the too quiet days, the cold nights.**

**I'm not doing too well, mi amor. Which I know we've talked about, and that won't change, but it is a constant weight these days that I don't know how to alleviate, don't know how to cope with. All that keeps me going is you, the need to come back to you, to hold you in my arms again, feel your heart beat, the warmth of your fingers, the press of your lips.**

**It's getting harder to remember those feelings.**

**And it scares me.**

**I'm trying so so hard, Nicky. I'm trying so hard to stay positive, to keep my head up, to keep moving forward- I am Sisyphus and mars has so many hills.**

**I love you.  
**

**So much.**

**I'm sorry to bring it up, but I have to. The HAB and the crops.**

**It's always easier to joke in these situations, but I know that's not how it is between us- you are so much a part of me that I could never lie or evade anything, I want to share everything with you.  
**

**I'm crushed, ya albi. I don't know what to do.**

**These last few days, I wish I wasn't good at math, can't feel the days pass. I wish I didn't know in my bones exactly how long my rations will last, how long it will be until the supplies get here, until _rescue_ gets here. **

**I'm doing my best, my love. I'm going to have to figure something out, and I _will,_ it's just so tiring. **

**I'm glad Booker's been there for you, that everyone's been together and supporting each other. And I know you must hear it over and over from them, but you must remember, _none_ of this is your fault. It never will be, it never was. You don't need to prove yourself or make up for perceived faults- you existing is all I need. **

**It's all I've ever needed.**

**Maybe it's the isolation getting to me, maybe it's the stress, maybe it's everything. I just know that I miss you more than I ever have, I feel incomplete, destitute, empty, untethered, ill-fitting in my body. In the space between waking and sleep, I am with you. You are wrapped around me, nose brushing the back of my neck. I hold your hands tight to my chest, tangle my legs with yours. I hear the beating of your heart and the sound of your breaths.**

**Do you remember that house we stayed at in Malta, the one on the sea? It was so sunny, it felt like the sky stretched on forever, the sand was so hot and the waves so refreshing. You were beautiful, even when you got sunburn all over because you fell asleep in the sun. Remember laying on the bed together, curtains blowing in the breeze, our bodies sweaty and sated?  
**

**Nicky, I'd give anything to be back there. It feels like a dream now. Life was peaceful, life was limitless, we could do anything. Dancing on the beach under the stars, kissing in the market, reading under the trees. We couldn't keep our hands to ourselves- fuck you felt so good. I get hard just thinking about you pushing me against the tiled walls, holding my wrists down in bed, wrapping around me in the kitchen. I _ache_ remembering how you looked when just waking up, all sleepy and soft, remembering how your smile caught the sun, lit up my insides until I knew nothing but love. **

**Can we go back to Malta? Will you take me there, take me there and take care of me and I'll take care of you? I want to filled with you, covered with you, overwhelmed by you. I want life to be blissful, to be sharp with love and gentle to my soul. Will you take me there? We can run away together, just like we always dreamed.**

**My moon, wait for me. I'll count the stars back to you, until we are together again. Nothing will stand in my way. Promise me you'll be there, promise me everything will be alright. Just for a little while. I love you more than anything.**

**Don't wake me from your arms,**   
**Yusuf**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mi hai fatto male!: you hurt my feelings! (i'm p sure)
> 
> referenced monsters inc, and i think b99? that or the good place. 
> 
> i did have to change the movie script scene of the crew getting the information abt how many ration days joe has from being with Copley and Lykon to the team. p much everything else beside like 2 of nile's texts to joe is all made up by me :D i rly hope u guys liiked it. i wasn't completely happy with the editing of this chapter, felt like some parts were too fast or i could've added more detail, but i rly just wanted to get this behemoth up and posted lmao
> 
> anyways, i rly like to hear what u guys say and i cherish every comment! lmk what u think or just scream incoherently, i will be there and always reply! <3 <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey ppl!  
> u know the joke"'writers come in saying how they've gotten 'divorced, lost their house, fought in wwi, rescued a dog, and had a house fire etc etc but here's the chapter!'" and it's a good fucking chapter?   
> that abt sums up my life rn. idk if the chapter is good lol, it's short but also bc the scenes in the script are super fucking short, but life is messy af and so writing has been hard but still a good haven to make my way back to
> 
> (i don't remember who it was, but here's donald glover's first scene lol. hope u like it bc i p much had to change it around a lot lol)
> 
> warnings for joe dissociating a bit (no harm or bad thoughts, just issues feeling present in his body); talk again of shitty rationing of his food

Joe turns on the camera and sits down heavily, resting his helmeted head in his hands, staring lifelessly at the floor. 

The wind howls into the destroyed HAB, the freeze-dried potato stems crackling and breaking under the force, plastic tarps snapping sharply. The sun shines through the massive hole in the wall where the airlock used to be, back lighting Joe and the lone chair he occupies amid the mess. 

Nothing's been moved since the explosion except for the beaten up chair he now rests upon. 

"Okay." His voice is hoarse, cracking. He doesn't look up from the floor.

"Okay. I can do this. Gotta do this." Admittedly, it's not his most motivating speech. 

He sighs loudly, trying again. "I'm not gonna die here. So that means I have to get my ass in gear. Which means getting up... I can get up. C'mon Joe."

He slowly raises his head and sits back in his chair, finally making eye contact with the camera through his visor, but his eyes are unfocused, looking at nothing. 

Destruction surrounds him; he doesn't look out of place among the wreck, battered and banged up.

"Get up, Joe." He pleads softly. "C'mon. Just stand up. First step, you can do it. Think of Nicky, think of Andy, Booker, Nile, Quynh." He ignores the tear sliding down his cheek. "You're gonna get back to them, but you gotta get up first."

Slowly, ever so slowly, cradling his ribs where it still hurts from being tossed around the airlock, he stands up. 

He can see his silhouette from the sun shining in behind him. 

Were their suits always this baggy? 

Maybe he's wearing Booker's?

He looks away.

"Okay okay okay." He chants. "Good. Don't think about it, don't think about it. Focus on the next step. Okay." 

Think of Nicky.

Not about the mess around him, about the fact that he probably won't survive this time. Can't science his way out.

"Don't think about it." He grits his teeth as another tear falls down his face. "Don't think about it. Everything is fine. You can work with this. Everything is fine." 

He shakes his head sharply, as trying to dislodge his thoughts past the strong panic cloying at him, choking his breath and blurring his vision. "Clean up. Clean this all up. I know you can do this, al-Kaysani. Everyone's waiting for you." 

Nicky waiting with open arms, the bright sunlight of Malta shining on his face. The salt water breeze causing his opened button up to flit around his torso. The feel of those warm hands in his, those strong arms around him.

Andy snarking 'what took you so long?' even though he can see the relief in her eyes.

Nile-

He shakes his head sharply. This isn't helping him. This _hurts,_ knowing what he's missing. He can't focus on that. It feels like a cruel taunt, imagining all that he can't have. 

You can do this Joe. 

Box it all up and push it away. Compartmentalize like you've been taught. Space is unforgiving and you have to adapt. 

You can do this.

With sharp breath, he straightens his shoulders, ignoring the way the fabric hangs off his body. He swallows and blinks away his tears, forcing himself to stand up straight. 

He turns to face the camera, his eyes empty. He smiles widely, forcing the words out past the screams shoved in the back of his throat. 

"Hello everyone! It's your favorite botanist!" He doesn't feel connected to his body anymore- but can feel the way his smile pulls at his skin, the way his voice talks loudly to draw attention away from the cracks in his facade.

"Today, as you can see, is going to be a repair day. Which means," he takes a shallow bow, his movements jerky, a puppet left to pull his own strings, "we get to do some engineering and things- like, figuring out how to repressurize an entire building, calculating rations, and a whole bunch of other shit! So much fucking shit and it's all so much and fuck, we have to fix it all! Fuck!" 

His shout echoes through the HAB, his body trembling and fists clenched so tight he can hear the gloves creaking. 

So much for trying to be calm and rational. 

At least now his dead eyes match the rest of him. 

He turns to look at the ruptured entryway, metal glinting mockingly in the sunlight, and wonders what the fuck his life has become. 

It certainly wasn't supposed to become this shitshow.

"Well," he says quietly, uncaring about what emotions he's feeling. They don't matter. He has things he needs to do no matter what happens. "The first step will be to repressurize. There's no point in doing anything else until that happens. If I can't do that, which would be a goddamn _disaster,_ I'll have to figure something else out somehow. And right now, my brain is barely able to handle that thought, let alone come up with back up plans. No. I'm going to repressurize this HAB if it fucking kills me." 

* * *

Celeste opens the door to the dark office quietly, treading lightly on the carpeted floor. The light from the hallway illuminates fingertips brushing against the floor. Following the hand up along an arm, and under a blanket, she watches Dizzy, her friend from astrodynamics, snore loudly while sleeping with her body half on half off a cushy chair. The computers on the nearby desk are on, running orbital computations and programs, diagrams and equations flashing and changing, all gibberish to Celeste.

She smiles, glad to see her friend at least sleeping. Dizzy rarely sleeps- which is practically a requirement working for Old Guard, but she would probably win at a 'staying up the longest' contest. 

Celeste had met Dizzy when first starting here, both of them new to their jobs and trying to get their footing. And though Celeste had never thought she'd end up friends with someone as loud and chaotic as Dizzy, they balanced each other out- Celeste sarcastic and fine being a loner at times; Dizzy lost in her work and loudly barging through life. 

Even asleep she's loud. 

"Dizzy?" Celeste calls quietly, tempted to take a picture of Dizzy sleeping like this as blackmail. Not that Dizzy had any shame to blackmail with. "C'mon, Dizzy. Time to wake up." 

Dizzy's face twitches and Celeste steps into the room.

"Dizzy," she says in a louder voice. "Sorry, but you gotta get your ass in gear. C'mon, you fucker." 

Never let it be said that Celeste minces her words.

That does the trick, Dizzy snuffling and stirring in her seat, slowly pulling her head up from where it hung over the armrest. 

"...Celeste? What are you doing here?" She blinks groggily, pushing and pulling her limbs so she's sitting up. 

"They're asking for the probe courses. I'd said I'd come get you." 

Dizzy wipes a hand down her face. "Time?"

"3:42." 

"Fuck," Dizzy replies before nodding. "Okay, let me just..." She stumbles over to her desk, grabbing an abandoned cup of coffee and taking a big drink. Her face immediately pinches in disgust before she opens her mouth wide, letting the cold coffee fall onto the floor, glaring in betrayal as the coffee is absorbed by the carpet. 

Celeste raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, more than used to Dizzy's quirkiness. "They're wanting to figure out a launch date for the probe, but couldn't without you and Meta." 

Dizzy waves a hand absently, moving to toe on a pair of shoes near the door. "Yeah, I know. All 25 models will take 414 days to get there. They technically vary slightly in thrust duration," she shrugs on a sweater she grabbed from the floor, following Celeste as they make their way out of her office, "and are nearly identical in fuel requirement." She closes the door behind her, blinking in the bright lights of the hallway.

"Not the best time to launch, huh?" Celeste smiles at Dizzy squinting unhappily. 

"Nope," Dizzy pops the 'p' sound and it echoes loudly in the empty hallway. "Earth and Mars are really badly positioned. Hell, it's almost easier to..." 

Turning to find Dizzy lost in thought, Celeste lets her think for a bit. "Almost easier to what?" 

"I need more coffee," is the immediate reply, causing Celeste to smile.

Dizzy always needs more coffee. Especially when she hasn't slept in days. 

If she had been smart, she would've brought coffee when waking Dizzy up.

"Almost easier to what?" 

As expected, Dizzy doesn't answer, instead opting to sharply turn and veer towards a break room down the hallway, zeroed in on the doorway like she can smell the coffee brewing.

Celeste wouldn't be surprised if she could. Celeste sighs, fond exasperation warming her, and indulges her friend in her surprise field trip.

* * *

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [4:14]: The probe will take 414 days to reach you, and will deliver enough food to last you to the future mission**

**PATHFINDER [4:15]: Sounds like the longest door dash ever**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [4:16]: At least you'll know it will be cold by the time you get it**

**PATHFINDER [4:16]: I'm going to have to leave a 1 star review: 'terrible delivery time, food was cold. 1 star because at least there weren't any potatoes.'**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [4:18]: Thanks Joe. What would we do without your humor.**

**OLD GUARD MISSION CONTROL [4:18]: We've officially named the probe Iris, after the Greek goddess who traveled the heavens with the speed of wind. Among other things, she's also the goddess of rainbows.**

**PATHFINDER [4:19]: Gay space probe coming to save me. Ironic.**

**PATHFINDER [4:19]: I can see the titles now: 'gay man saved by gay probe, what will they gay next?'**

* * *

Lykon looks up from his files and looks at everyone gathered around the conference table, exhausted faces and messy papers everywhere. 

"Okay, let's ask the-" he glances at a page filled with calculations in his hand, "-two hundred million dollar- wait, sorry- _five_ hundred- that's a five? Really?" He looks up in askance as everyone grimaces. "Well fuck me." He takes a deep breath. "Okay, let's ask the very, very _expensive_ question: is this probe gonna be ready on time?"

Everyone turns to look at Meta, who stares back flatly. Her hair is up in her messy bun, her clothes stained with coffee and some unknown substance, eyes dead. Her voice is flat when she answers. "We're behind." 

"Give me a number." Lykon says immediately, already running worst case scenarios in his head. They had to get the supplies to al-Kaysani as soon as possible, and the schedule made by all the different departments meant that everyone had to do their part on time or things got messy.

Well, more messy than the goddamn mess that they found themselves in now. They were already flying by the seat of their pants, they didn't need any more complications.

Not when their were lives on the line. Not when the entire Old Guard was on the line.

Meta blinks at him, used to his curt attitude. "Fifteen days. If I had another fifteen days, I could get it done." 

"Alright, let's create fifteen days." He pulls another page from his pile of papers. "And thirteen to mount the probe. Can we reduce?" 

"Actually," Copley leans forward, "it only takes three days to mount the probe. We can get that down to two." He glances to Meta who nods. "But the other ten are for testing and inspections." 

"How often do those reveal a problem?" 

The room goes utterly silent, everyone glancing nervously between each other. 

Testing and inspections are what makes it so the things they fire into space actually make it _into_ space without blowing up. There's a reason they're there. It's similar to the saying 'OSHA is written in blood.' Testing and inspections is written in the flaming shrapnel of exploded spaceships.

It's Keane who breaks the silence, glaring in disbelief at Lykon. "Are you suggesting we _don't do the inspections?"_

"Right now," he says sharply, "I'm asking how often they reveal a problem." His harsh glare freezes everyone in their seats.

Copley glares back. "1 in 20 launches." His words threaded with a challenge. "But that's grounds for a countdown halt. We can't take that chance, Lykon." 

Lykon looks away, still glaring as his eyes sweep over everyone else. "Anyone know a safer way to buy more time?" 

The room is silent again, people ducking their heads to avoid Lykon's eyes. Only Copley and Keane glare back at him defiantly, not willing to back down on such a vital step, but knowing that Lykon holds all the power.

Lykon ignores their glares. "Okay. Tell Dr. Andreivich to stretch al-Kaysani's rations four more days. She won't like it, but that'll get us to fifteen." Picking up his files, he stands up and makes his way to the door. "And we'll cancel the inspections." 

Copley immediately shoots up. "Lykon-"

"It's on me, James. If something goes wrong it's on me." His voice and stance are firm.

There's no point arguing. He won't be moved.

Lykon nods before looking to Meta. "You've got your two weeks. Get it done."

* * *

Joe sits down at the table, space suit nowhere to be seen, a ration pack and two potatoes laid out on a plate in front of him, along with a pill bottle and a glass of water. He groans loudly and lets his head fall against the table with a loud thunk. When he speaks, his words are muffled. 

"So. I fixed the HAB. Yay me." His shoulders tighten. "I really really don't want to think about how the only thing between me and following the path of my potato brethren into freeze-dried hell is a piece of canvas duct taped to the HAB shell." He groans again, raising his head and letting it fall against the table with a thump again. 

It's to be the story of his life, everything's held together by duct tape, dumb luck, and desperate hope.

Fuck everything.

He raises his head, skin red where his forehead had hit the table, and looks listlessly at the camera. 

"So. It's sol 154. I have to hold out until the probe gets here with more food. And this," he holds up his ration pack, "is what 'minimal calorie count' looks like." He grimaces and goes to open the pack. "Oh good. Meatloaf." He shows off a small slice of meatloaf as he puts it on his plate.

He sighs. "Now watch this." He cuts the meatloaf into thirds, setting two thirds of it aside. He looks down at the pathetic remains of the meatloaf. 

It looks as depressed as he does. 

"This is today's allotment. Which, I will supplement with potatoes. Hooray." He shifts his dead-eyed stare to the potatoes. "Which I'm beginning to hate with the fiery passion of a thousand suns." 

He shakes his head. "And now, I've been told to do this." 

He takes his fork and knife again, and cuts a large portion off the meatloaf, setting it aside with half of a potato. He looks at his almost empty plate tiredly, trying not to break down. 

"The point is, 'stretch the rations four more days,' is a real dick-punch. Like, a real motherfucking shit move. Fuck my life." He breathes out harshly, trying to keep his anger up front instead of his overpowering sorrow. 

If he gives into the sorrow he won't get back up again.

"A real shit move," he mutters before he grabs the pill bottle nearby, tips out two pills, and crushes them with the flat of his knife into small chunks. He grabs one of his half potato allotments and presses it into the crushed pills.

"I'm dipping this potato in vicodin and there's nothing anyone can do about it." He shoves the entire chunk in his mouth, glaring defiantly at the camera as he attempts to chew the large hunk of potato. His words are muffled by the potato when he speaks: "'Healthy life' my ass. We don't fucking know her. Fuck mars." He continues staring belligerently at the camera as he chews. 

"I fucking ran out of ketchup seven days ago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> celeste and dizzy are fucking friends!!!! dizzy is amazing and i love it.  
> dr. andreivich (bc i couldn't figure out how not to name drop in that scene) is literally that bc the pilo in tog was named andrei and i couldn't care to do anything else lol
> 
> lmk what u guys think! always love to hear ur thoughts and reply to each of them! (if i haven't replied to ur comment, pls know i probs just lost it bc aaa and i will do my best to reply!) 
> 
> thanks ppl! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a set schedule for when I will update! I will never know. But I'm super in love with this story and its potential! Leave me a comment or kudos if you want! They always help me write lol. <3


End file.
